


Everything At Once

by Clockwork_Mockingbird



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, Pining, Therapy for everyone!, They're stupid your honor, a bit of whump, a very small swirl of angst, buck comes into money and takes care of the firefam, buck's parents still suck, but it's mostly fluff, evan buckley has a heart of gold, no covid au, no redemption for the parents really, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork_Mockingbird/pseuds/Clockwork_Mockingbird
Summary: Buck comes into a lot of money.Nothing changes so of course everything does.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 293
Kudos: 944





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me. We're going to Lake Laogai for a second.
> 
> There is no war in Ba Sing Se. There is no covid in LA.
> 
> (I'm in remission but still not really allowed to leave the house so I'm not gonna put Covid in my fics I don't think because I miss hugging people and Buck deserves hugs.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope this fic finds you well and I'm crossing my fingers that it's not too crazy of an idea or that it's at least a fun read!

Eddie's oven dies with a pop and a concerning groaning sound late on Thursday night. Buck's there for it and already moving to swoop Christopher up and place him near the door as Eddie dives for the extinguisher. There's smoke faintly curling in the air, but it dissipates pretty quickly.

They exchange a glance, Buck gripping Christopher, Eddie the extinguisher, before Eddie hesitantly reaches out to open the oven door. No flames burst forth, but the oven makes some kind of moaning sound that sounds a bit too much like a death rattle for comfort.

"Didn't sound good," Buck says levelly, hand twisted up in Christopher's shirt, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. He's not going to relax until Eddie puts the extinguisher down.

Christopher is entirely unconcerned and grins up at Buck. "Told you Dad would burn dinner."

"I don't think I did this, mijo." Eddie's voice echoes a bit from the depth of the oven. "Son of a-" The extinguisher hits the ground with a metallic clink. Eddie buries his hands in his hair and swears colorfully in rapid Spanish.

"OH-kay, let's order a pizza!" Buck suggests loudly, pulling out his phone. "BBQ chicken anyone?"

Bad luck continues, and not just for Eddie. By the time Friday morning dawns bright, Buck is watching it from his balcony rather than curled up in his bed and sleeping. He wishes he'd given in when Eddie asked if he'd wanted to stay the night, wishes he'd been in the Diaz living room and could have crept down the hall to peer into Christopher's open door just to double check that he was safe and warm in his bed.

But sleep is an odd thing these days, and he'd figured he'd have a nightmare after the shift they'd had. He didn't want to risk waking up Christopher.

He's had nightmares before, of course, every first responder has them. Maddie says that most of the dispatchers talk openly about their therapy sessions in the break room and joke about how they all drive Frank to need therapy himself and had pushed him, in that Maddie way of hers, to find a therapist of his own.

Buck's been seeing Dr. Copeland for about five months now and virtual therapy has been a game changer, he thinks. The ability to go about his day after a session rather than having to schedule his day around an appointment is incredibly freeing. If he needs a breather after a session, he's already home with the door locked and his phone off. He doesn't wallow in his thoughts- he knows better. He cooks, or cleans, or organizes his closet. Something productive to keep his hands and mind busy.

He's been taking extra shifts when he can grab them, too, for anyone who asks. It's made him a few A shift friends, and he actually doesn't mind getting up earlier every now and then. He usually swings by the Diaz house after shift on those days just in time to hug Christopher and tell him to have a good day at school before going home and zonking out for at least seven hours.

She'd warned him, Buck reminds himself. "Dealing with buried traumas will have side affects. You could experience insomnia, nightmares, repressed memories coming to light, increased anxiety, bouts of depression, or even night terrors."

Well, he can go ahead and check insomnia and nightmares off on the symptoms board.

"Figures," Buck sighs, cupping his hands around his steaming cup of coffee. He's probably going to need more than two cups to get through today, but too much coffee can make him jittery. How is it he's so tired but his body just refuses to let him sleep? After laying in bed for three hours he'd both given and gotten up.

Shoulders tense, muscles skittering and jumping, Buck downs the too hot coffee quickly and steps back inside, closing the balcony door behind him.

If he's not going to sleep, he might as well do something. Though the apartment is spotless, and he doesn't have much of an appetite yet, so his go-to of cleaning is out. It's too early for breakfast anyway. Though if he works up an apetite, he can justify a large and complicated breakfast.

Buck steps into his running shoes, grabbing his keys, phone, and wallet. He zips them into the pocket of his hoodie and starts jogging in place as he locks up, trying to loosen up a little. He stretches while waiting for the elevator and on the way down, taking care to stretch his bad leg correctly.

In high school, he hated running. Hated the way it was forced on him with all these rules. Keep this pace for this long, then slow down. Don't run too far. Stop after this line. _You can't just sprint the whole way, Evan._

Fucking Coach Sanders. Isn't getting to the finish line as fast as possible the point?

But now he's an adult, and if he wants to take off at a dead run and just see how far he'll go before his body forces him to stop, he can. So he does. He's jogging through his building lobby, sprinting up the sidewalk, and by the time he hits the jogging path in the park a mile away he's hit that sweet spot where his body is used to the idea and he can just _go_.

Around mile two, he stops feeling the burn in his lungs, so in his own head he blows past his usual stopping point.

Everyone's having a rough time right now. It's like a curse has descended upon the 118 and no one is immune. Chimney's shower quit working entirely and then flooded his and Maddie's new house that they hadn't even officially moved into yet. Eddie's oven nearly exploded. Yesterday Hen had moaned that she needs to take out _another_ loan for med school.

Everyone has their own problems. Buck doesn't want to add his into the mix.

The nightmares started again a few months back. It's normal and expected and he's told Dr. Copeland about them, which is how he knows they're normal and to be expected. That doesn't mean he likes them, or particularly appreciates the bout of insomnia right before a shift when he was good and went to bed on time and everything.

He's even doing a healthy thing in response to the nightmare. He's not sitting home alone in his dark apartment and waiting until he can go to work. He's exercising, jogging.

Mile three goes by in a blink and Buck finally pivots to begin the run back.

Okay, it's more than a jog, sure. But he's always been a fast runner.

It's healthy to use exercise as an outlet. His therapist knows about his nightmares. The insomnia is new, but also not unexpected. He'll run home then he'll work his shift and then Buck will be so exhausted at the end of it he'll sleep like a dead person like he has the last few times.

So it's under control, kind of. If it gets worse, he'll mention them to someone other than Maddie, but for now running before work, or cleaning, or cooking, helps him slow his thoughts. And it's not every night, not anymore. Barely even once a week now.

And Buck is aware of himself enough to know the thing he's running from isn't actually the nightmares.

Well, okay it kinda is. At this particular moment he's running from the nightmare that had jolted him awake with a scream in his throat, hands reaching for Christopher- who is _safe_ and at _home_ with Eddie who would never let anything happen to his son. Been a while since that one, but he at least can usually get that particular anxiety down pretty quickly.

He'd wanted to stay at Eddie's so bad, wanted to wake up and cook them breakfast and hear Eddie grumble before coffee, but if he'd had this nightmare while in the living room Eddie would definitely have heard it and he doesn't need another problem on top of everything else right now. The last thing Buck wants to do is become a problem for anyone ever again.

Okay, fine, he's running from the conversation he'd had with his father the other day.

The Buckley's have tried therapy. And while Buck finds it helpful (nightmares and repressed memories notwithstanding), his parents have decided it's not for them. Even the virtual sessions were too much, sending his mother into full blown panic attacks at the mention of Daniel's name.

He thinks understands a little better now why Daniel has been such a ghost all these years. Seeing his mother hyperventilate, face dripping sweat and tears, and then become so confused and lost... it was _rough_ to watch. Even harder knowing they were back in Pennsylvania and he was all the way in California and he couldn't reach out to help her.

Normally that distance helped things, but that had been a particular twist of helplessness that had Dr. Copeland extending their session a full hour to talk him down after his father had closed his feed to try and calm Margaret down.

Phillip called a few days later.

Buck really wishes seeing his father's name on the caller ID didn't fill him with dread.

The fake pleasantries were stilled and awkward. Phillip kept talking about the weather, the garden he couldn't keep alive, his mother's book club losing another member, and finally Buck had cut in with a "Dad. Just say it." after five minutes of pretending they talk on the phone more often than they do- which is barely at all.

"...I don't think your mother should join the therapy sessions anymore," Phillip had admitted quietly.

He gets it. He does. He's a first responder, he knows how bad anxiety and panic attacks can be. Watching the color drop and rise in his mother's face, hearing her confusedly call for Maddie like her daughter would appear behind them... yeah. Buck gets it. He's not going to keep putting her through that if she's that fragile.

"No, it's probably not a good idea with her mental state right now. But I have the list of doctors for the tests Dr. Copeland recommended. You should have them done, Dad. If she gets as confused as she did again, it could be something medical, not just the stress of some repressed memories."

"Yes. I-I think you're right. I've been looking into it and I agree. I just hoped..." he'd trailed off, sighing heavily. "Well. No point in delaying. I'll take those recommendations. Thank you, Buck."

They'd hung up sad, but Phillip had promised to call Maddie and fill her in- and then he was going to listen to Maddie gently telling him that the first recommendation on the list was a friend of hers in Hershey who could fit Mom in on Tuesday morning if they wanted.

And then Buck couldn't sleep all night.

If his mom stops coming to therapy, does that mean his dad will too? Is that even the right thing to be worrying about when his mom could potentially be developing a serious memory issue that could be anything from a brain bleed to trauma repressed memories to Alzheimer's? Is there even any point in worrying about it until they get to the doctor?

Does he even _want_ to keep going to therapy with his father? Buck is going to stick with therapy for a while longer, but is he going to keep inviting his father to sessions? Is there even a point to it?

Almost home now, the last mile- mile... five? six?- the only thing between him and a nice, cool shower.

He slows to a jog when the entrance of the park comes into view. He'll cool down in the last mile if he takes it easy now, slows his whooping breaths a bit. He makes a pit stop by the water fountain, easing into a few stretches while he drinks.

As much as he might have wanted it at the beginning, had craved it for so long as a child, Buck's not sure he actually wants a relationship with his parents anymore. He wouldn't mind _a_ relationship with them. Maybe a phone call twice a year, a card at Christmas, a video chat on big birthdays relationship, which is more than they'd had since he'd left home.

But a parent/child relationship? He's never going to get what he needed as a kid, he's accepted that. And now as an adult, he has to admit it might actually be too late to try and get any kind of relationship working. And that not having that relationship... might not be the worst thing. He's got to admit that he just doesn't want it anymore.

He jogs at the crosswalk, considering it.

Phillip's actually not a bad guy, per se. He's not a great father, and he gets Maddie's _good people, bad parents_ thing now that he's had some time away and several months of intense therapy. Margaret is a wall, Buck knows. He's never been able to reach her, and he thinks he accepted that as a kid.

Buck knows they blame him for Daniel's death, even if they think and say they don't. They can't help but think that and Buck can't help but be hurt by it and try to make up for it. _That's not on you_ , Eddie's voice reminds him.

Right. The thing Dr. Copeland told him to recite when he feels guilt about a brother he can't even remember.

_It's not my fault Daniel died._

Eh.

Buck lets himself back into the apartment. "It's not my fault Daniel died," he says out loud, but it doesn't feel any different. It doesn't feel like a lie, doesn't feel like it's true. It's just a sentence he said. He's not sure why he's supposed to say it, but whatever.

Regardless, it's looking like it's not something they're going to be able to fully get past. And that's not Buck's fault. It's actually, literally, no joke, his parents' fault. It's not his responsibility to fix it, but he'd tried anyway, and now they're back to the beginning. He just happens to know about all the wounds this time around.

And this time, Buck knows that whatever wounds his parents carry are not on him to fix when they keep picking them open. And he's okay with that.

Buck glances at the time.

He'll be showered and ready for work before his alarm even goes off. Might as well grab breakfast and head to work early. The chaos and noise of the firehouse would be a welcome change from his empty apartment. The music doesn't quite fill the space anymore, no matter how loud Buck cranks it (which truthfully isn't that loud because he's not an asshole neighbor like that- looking at _you_ 3B).

* * *

"-tells me then that I don't _qualify_ for a loan, so I'm not getting one. That I'm not a good risk or something like that."

"Not a sound investment," Chim quotes, frowning in sympathy. "Crap, Hen. I'm sorry."

"What are you gonna do?" Bobby asks, leaning against the counter.

Hen shrugs, face pinched. "I don't know," she admits quietly. "I needed this loan. We're getting into the practical's soon and the lab fees are murder, but the labs take up more time so I have to cut back on my hours here."

"Karen still working part time?"

Hen nods. "Yeah. I'm so busy with school and everything that she can't be working fulltime with the kids. It's just a lot, Cap."

Buck opens the freezer and starts rooting around. In the very back, behind the completely freezer burnt corndogs that have been here longer than him, there's a box. It's a small box of crappy, off-brand breakfast sandwiches that Chim swears is what gave him that awful run of food poisoning that had knocked him flat for two days straight. The box had promptly been shoved to the very back of the freezer and left there.

Which makes it the perfect hiding place for-

"Is that pistachio ice cream?" Hen looks like she might cry from joy. "You are an _angel_. Give."

Baffled, Bobby peers around Buck and into the still open freezer. "Where did that come from?"

"Oh, I put it there when Hen mentioned she had to get another loan." Buck shrugs, watching Hen tear into the carton with glee. "I figured no matter what kind of news it was, she'd need the ice cream."

Eddie peels around the corner, panting slightly, doing up the last few buttons of his shirt. "Cap, I'm sorry-"

"No need, it's three minutes. Traffic?"

Buck eyes Eddie when he shakes his head, taking in the tense shoulders, the hands clasped loosely into fists at his side. Uh oh.

"Haven't been able to get the oven fixed?" he guesses, detouring to the fridge this time to pull out the bottle of Eddie's preferred breakfast smoothie he'd made sure Bobby had added to the station grocery list.

"I did consider taking it out back and shooting it. Or calling Athena to come shoot it." Eddie grabs the bottle Buck offers with both hands. "Where did this come from? Thanks, man."

Pleased to see the lines of tension bleeding out of Eddie a little, Buck accepts Hen's offered spoonful of ice cream with a grin.

"Thanks, Buckaroo." Hen smiles up at him, patting his cheek. "I needed this."

"What's going on with all the home issues around here?" Chim wonders aloud, chomping through a celery stick. "Your oven, my shower-"

"Wait, what happened to your shower?" Eddie wants to know. "You _just_ got that place."

"It sprang a leak and flooded the whole damn place is what happened. I was up most of the night with a shop vac and a mop. Albert managed to shut the water off and seal the place before we did any major damage, but he's still doing cleanup right now." Chimney scrubs his eyes tiredly. "I dunno what happened. I came home to water coming down the hall, had to call Albert to come give me a hand and tell Maddie not to bring any of her stuff yet."

Hen offers Chim her spoon next. He gratefully carves out a scoop and sticks the entire thing in his mouth.

"So Eddie's oven died, I'm not getting the money I need for next semester, Chim's apartment flooded and now he smells because he can't shower at home-"

"I'm truly sorry for that, by the way."

"Bobby, you got anything happening at your house?" Hen asks, taking the spoon from Chimney and getting herself another scoop.

"No, but now that I've said that..."

Buck's phone rings shrilly from the table.

Hen and Eddie both eye the phone suspiciously. "Tell me your house is still standing, Buck," Eddie pleads.

"It was when I left this morning."

He's not about to tell them about his mother right now. They'd all let out a breath of relief when Bobby had confirmed nothing dramatic happening at home, so he's not about to bring the mood back down. Plus, he's not even sure it's something to worry about yet.

Except it's his dad calling.

"Hey, Dad. How was the doctor's appointment?" Buck steps closer to the living area, away from where everyone else gathers at the island and collectively groans about expensive things and eats the ice cream. Bobby conjures an ice cream scoop from somewhere and reaches for the carton.

"Oh, fine, fine. Maddie was right, Dr. Veena was very nice. She doesn't think your mother has Alzheimer's, which is a relief."

Some of his tension eases. He might not want a proper relationship with his mother anymore, but he's still glad that she's okay. "That's good. Does she have a theory, though? About what it could be?"

"A few. She wants to wait until the lab results are in, but she thinks it's Mild Cognitive Impairment based on the CT scan. I'll let you know when we know for sure, but she's optimistic. If it is MCI there are things we'll have to change, but it's nothing too life-altering. It's enough to worry and keep an eye on, and apparently she needs a hearing aid as well, which I suspected a while ago."

"Bet she hates it."

"Oh, absolutely. But Buck, I was actually calling because I was going through our important documents and I found Maddie's old trust fund bank book."

"Oh. Okay?" Puzzled, Buck leans against the wall, his back to the others.

Phillip's father had died about a month before Maddie was born. Daniel would have been around one, nearly two, and both he and Maddie had trust funds set up by their grandfather. Maddie had cashed hers in at eighteen to go to nursing school and had apparently used the rest of it put Doug through medical school debt free and buy the house they'd had in Boston.

He'd never bothered to ask why he didn't have one as a kid- he'd known it had been set up by the dead grandfather neither he nor Maddie had ever met, long before he'd been... well, created, he supposes bitterly. And he hadn't known about Daniel, but Maddie had confirmed a while ago that Daniel as the oldest would have definitely had a trust set up for him too. But as a kid, he knew it wasn't a slight against him- his grandfather had just died long before their mother was pregnant with him.

"When Daniel died, I had his account transferred into one in your name," Phillip says. "And I realized I never actually told you about it when I saw Maddie's old bank book."

"Wait... what?" Buck switches the phone to his other ear, sure he heard wrong. "You did what?"

"I put it in your name. You've got an untouched trust fund sitting in our old bank."

Buck pushes off the wall when Eddie wanders over, his own spoon full of ice cream crammed in his mouth and a bowl in his hands. "I didn't, uh. I didn't know you did that."

Eddie's brow furrows in question, head tilting. Buck shakes his head, pointing to the phone.

"I'd completely forgotten about it. Dad had it all set up before he died- our names weren't even on the accounts or anything. I'll send you the information I've found here about it."

He's under no illusions. Buck knows he's a privileged white boy from the upper middle class, but having a trust fund isn't something he'd ever even thought was in the realm of possibility. That's so rich kid. As in, _rich_ kid who gets a Ferrari for their sweet sixteen and an Audi for high school graduation, and they've never been _that_.

Hadn't Maddie's payout been something like nearly three quarters of a million dollars?

"So it's just been sitting there this whole time?"

"Yes." And there's a pause. "I- it's so hard to talk about him. Your mother doesn't even know about the account anymore, I don't think, and I put it out of my mind with everything else. I guess I thought I'd just remember and tell you some day and then I never did."

Eddie raises a brow. Who knows what kind of expression Buck has on his face right now. He rubs his forehead with his free hand. "I get it, I think. It just feels like a weird thing to forget about."

What a rich person problem. Oh, I forgot all about _that_ bank account, the one with (probably) a bunch of money in it. Will it be a lot of money? Is that a rude thing to wonder about right now?

Phillip laughs, though. The sound is so odd and startling Buck jolts a little. "You know, you're right. I don't know how I did. Anyway, I'll send you the information. The bank did say they can do most everything electronically and over video call so you shouldn't have to come out here for anything. I don't think."

"What was that about?" Eddie asks when he hangs up a few minutes later. He offers Buck the rest of his ice cream, which Buck grabs eagerly. Just because he'd gotten the ice cream for Hen doesn't mean he didn't want some too.

"Well," he starts, still trying to wrap his mind around it himself.

The alarm blares.

Buck groans and shoves a huge chunk of ice cream into his mouth before running towards the stairs.

"Tell you later."

* * *

"He did? No, I had no idea." Over the video call, Maddie purses her lips, head tilted in thought. "Come to think of it, he didn't tell me about my bank account until the day before my eighteenth birthday."

Buck watches his brow raise in the camera.

"I think he didn't want to tell me because he knew I'd take it and run off with Doug immediately, which I did. He tried to tell me to leave it for a few years so it'd gather more interest, but I didn't listen. It could have been so much more if I'd left it like he wanted- probably over a million."

Buck's eyes widen. "I highly doubt mine's gonna be that much."

"I don't know, Buck. You said those bank people you talked to earlier were really nice. They're usually only nice to rich people, and they did say it was thirty years of interest buildup. Mine only had eighteen when I cleaned it out."

That's true, but still. "I didn't even ask how much it was. After they verified my id five times and I was transferred four times, I was so done I just gave them my account info and told them to transfer it all." They did tell him it could take over a month for the funds to hit his account, though, and Buck had looked it up. That's usually only for amounts over one hundred thousand, so...

Which, wow. If Buck really is about to get as much as Maddie thinks he is, then things are seriously going to change.

Maddie blinks suddenly, eyes darting down to her stomach. "Oh! Wow, what a kick. Ow. Chimney's kid is going to be a soccer star, I swear." She winces, but smiles when she rubs her hand across the curve of her belly.

"How's part-time working out for you?" Buck asks, already knowing the answer.

Maddie scowls. "I hate it. I want to work. It's a sit down job- I'm barely on my feet at all! I don't understand why the doctor ordered me down to half days."

Chimney has prepped him for this argument and they'd spent ten minutes in the parking lot after shift discussing their comebacks and counterpoints before deciding that the person she's least likely to kill is Buck and therefore Buck should be the one to argue with her about it. Somehow (obviously Chimney doesn't know about the barbie hair cutting incident- Maddie had been mad enough to shake the walls when she'd discovered him in her room with scissors in hand).

"It's mentally stressful," he says, pointing at the phone. "That's not good for the baby, and I know you've been having some bad insomnia."

"Yeah, says the insomniac who texts me _back_ at three am." Her frown deepens. "Still having some nightmares?"

He shrugs, uneasy. He hadn't wanted to tell Maddie about the nightmares at all while she's struggling to deal with moving in with Chimney- during The Great Flood as Albert had dubbed it- in month six of her pregnancy right after a vicious house hunt, but he's supposed to be more open with people.

Maddie's worried about him, he knows, so he's honest with her because he'd promised he would be. They'd both promised they would be.

"A few, but they're not that bad. Dr. Copeland isn't even worried, and they've started to die down a bit. The last one was weird, though. It was about a giant snake that was trying to eat my fingers-"

"Stop," Maddie says immediately.

Buck's mouth snaps shut. Whoops, he forgot for a second. Everyone knows better than to mention snakes around Maddie.

"Sorry. I've started running," he offers with a smile. "When I can't sleep I run to the park on Phelps and do a few laps. Helps calm the mind a little and the next night I usually sleep really well."

"I just don't like you having nightmares."

"I don't like it when you do either, and I know you do. We're both first responders, Maddie. Not to mention everything else we've been through. To be honest, we're probably going to have to get used to them, so I'm developing some coping mechanisms. I go running, or make a super fancy meal with a lot of steps, or I go bug Eddie until he lets me help him with his grandmother's deck."

Reaching for something out of frame, Maddie shifts until Buck is somewhere in her jaw, nothing but her hair filling the screen. "What about his grandmother's deck?"

"I'm helping him rebuild it. Apparently we're both only moderately good at it, so it's slow going but it gives me a project for the next little while." He grins. "And if I annoy Eddie enough, I get to go distract Christopher, and then we _both_ annoy Eddie, and then we all get Abuela's home cooking."

The rest of Maddie reappears. She holds up a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips with glee, tearing into them. "Sounds like fun," she says around a mouthful. "But hey, promise me that you'll call me if you get a bad nightmare, okay? I'll probably be awake."

"Fine, but only if you stick to part-time like the doctor suggested." She sighs, cramming another handful of chips into her mouth. Eventually, she nods. "Thank you. Oh, also you can tell me about your weird pregnancy dreams. Chim mentioned one with teletubbies?"

Maddie laughs. "Yes, it was so creepy- I can't even look at teletubbies now. So the last one? Chimney was in the WWE but back in the 80's, I think. He had a mullet, and I was pregnant but somehow I wasn't, and then there was a mermaid? Somehow?" She makes a pile of chips right on the top of her belly. "It was super weird. I woke up looking for the championship belt."

Delighted, Buck shakes his head. "Why did you have it?"

"Because I won the title, duh."

"Oh, of course."

"What are you gonna do with the money?" Maddie asks, eyes on her chip pile. She carefully plucks one off the top and pops it into her mouth.

"Depends on how much it is, I guess." Buck hasn't really thought about it.

Well, he's idly considered. He even indulged in a brief fantasy where it actually _was_ one million dollars and he was a millionaire that owned a boat and two cool cars but had put the thought out of his head pretty quick. He's seen enough sports cars wrapped around telephone polls or smashed to bits on the freeway and has no interest in being one of those people they have to scrape off the road.

"I could get Eddie a new oven," he says thoughtfully. "Don't know if he'd let me do that, but he needs one. And I could probably set up some kind of savings fund for Peanut there."

For a second, he thinks the call has frozen. Maddie is perfectly still on the couch, mid chew, but then he can see her blinking.

"Maddie?"

"Buck." Her eyes fill. "That's so sweet. You'd do that for her?"

Pure joy fills him. He could probably float right up to the ceiling with his smile. "Her? It's a girl?"

Maddie nods, laughing and swiping at her eyes. "Yes, she's a girl. You're going to have a niece. Chimney and I agreed we could tell you and Albert. And Josh, because he can just get things out of me."

"A niece with a savings account. I'll get it sorted, Maddie."

"Thank you." Maddie sniffles, smiling broadly into the camera. "That means so much."

"Enough to make me the godfather?" Buck teases. Maddie rolls her eyes and hangs up later in a huff, trying very hard not to be amused.

He knows Chim and Maddie had pooled their money to buy their little fixer upper and that things were tight while they remodeled. If he really is about to get a lot of money like everyone seems to think he might (well, Maddie and Phillip think he is and they're the only ones who know about the account at all), he can just put some directly into an account in Maddie's name until the baby arrives.

He grins manically to the ceiling. When his _niece_ arrives. He falls asleep thinking about fun things uncles do with nieces- he feels like he should learn to fish or something, suddenly- and drops into a deep slumber almost instantly.

In the morning, he wakes to some text messages and a bank notification. He swipes to the messages first, grinning at the picture of Christopher from the day before, dressed up for school picture day in a smart green button down, crisp black pants, and his hair perfectly curled. He absolutely needs one of the pictures when they arrive, and immediately texts Eddie as much.

Eddie's next photo is of his middle finger flipping off the gutted and deconstructed oven. Tools and parts are scattered all across his kitchen floor, the over door off completely and leaning up against the wall.

_Eddie: Kill me_

Buck snorts. _maybe u should just get a new one_

_Eddie: No. I can fix it._

Since Eddie's texting back immediately, Buck videos him while he gets dressed. If Eddie can't answer, Christopher will if he's awake so it's a win either way.

"This fucking oven," Eddie says when he answers. The picture blurs when Eddie swaps to the other camera to show him the carnage strewn across the floor. "I really just want to kill it."

"I think it's already dead, man," Buck says, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Do you have any idea how expensive ovens are?" Eddie growls, flipping back to the front camera to frown at him. "I need to fix this and keep it working until next month at least."

"No way, I was there when it died. It screamed and everything."

"It did not scream-"

"Eddie, it's _dead_. Bury it, let it rest in peace."

He scowls, rubbing his forehead. Buck takes the call into the kitchen, yawning when he hits the lights.

It looks like a nice day, and he opens the door despite the lingering chill in the air. The traffic sounds horrendous at this time of the day, so he doesn't linger outside except to turn on his traffic blocking playlist (mostly classic rock, lots of guitars that are louder than the blaring horns) before heading towards his functioning oven.

He stops in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hey, what are you gonna do for breakfast?"

Eddie gives him a look of defeated frustration. "I don't _know_ , Buck. I've been trying to figure it out, but the stovetop isn't working either and we're out of milk. And if I need a new oven-"

"-you do-"

"-then I can't afford the expense of eating out for every meal right now."

Buck double checks the contents of his fridge. Plenty of eggs, some tomatoes, lots of cheese, some hunks of ham. He even has some peppers, and those chili flakes that Eddie likes.

"Okay, looks like I can do omelettes. Christopher likes cheese and peppers in his, right?"

Eddie blinks at him. "Yeah... are you offering to make us breakfast?"

"Yeah, come over. I'll get started."

The smile that crosses Eddie's face nearly knocks him sideways. Buck props the phone on his fruit bowl and turns his back to wash his hands with extreme concentration.

"Thank you, Buck. I'll go wake Christopher. He'll be thrilled."

And he is, his wide grin growing even bigger when Buck puts him on the stepstool and lets him fold the omelette by himself. It sticks to the side of the pan where it overlaps a bit, but Buck shows him how to jiggle it back into place.

"How much cheese do you want on top?" he asks.

"Can I grate it?" Christopher turns big brown puppy eyes on Buck. "I want to grate it."

"You bet. I'll hold the grater, you shred the cheese." Buck swaps the spatula in Christopher's hand for the cheese and positions the grater under the cheddar block Bobby insisted on buying him. Christopher carefully runs the cheese up and down the metal a few times, then nods.

"That's enough." Chris picks the spatula back up and lifts up the corner of the omelette. "Looks good," he announces after a careful inspection.

Buck nods seriously, turning off the burner completely. He holds the plate to the side as Christopher carefully gets the spatula under the omelette and lifts it up.

Eddie's fiddling with his phone when they turn around, smiling down at the screen.

"That's going on instagram," he announces, tapping away.

Curious, Buck leans over his shoulder, chin just resting on the fabric of his henley. "You took a picture? I want to see."

Eddie's face is extremely close when he turns to look at Buck. He's got that smile on his face again, the one that makes Buck's heart kick up into overdrive. The corner of Eddie's eyes always crinkle when he smiles like that, and if Buck can notice that then he's too close. So he steps away.

"You'll see it when it's done uploading."

Christopher's already digging into his omelette when they sit down at the island, hot sauce dripping down his chin. Eddie is a wise parent and left Christopher in his PJs, with a change of clothes in his bag. "It's so good, Buck!" he says, wiggling happily. "Thank you."

"Of course, Superman. I couldn't let my best guys go hungry."

Buck slides his hand towards his phone and pulls up instagram. He wants to see that picture that Eddie posted. He's been more active online since Texas, and Buck's been loving the wealth of photos of Christopher that have been popping up.

He's been saving every photo of the three of them that Eddie posts.

His favorite one is from the ice cream parlor, where they're all crowded around a giant banana split, laughing and wide eyed at the size of the mountain of ice cream they hadn't been able to finish in the end. Christopher sits between them, wielding two spoons with glee and Buck and Eddie are both cracking up. Eddie has the cherry in his mouth, grinning around the red fruit, looking at Buck who has whipped cream on his finger, and is reaching for Christopher's nose.

At the moment, it's Buck's phone background.

"Seriously though, thank you. I really appreciate it," Eddie says, squeezing Buck's shoulder before digging into his pepper chili with extra hot sauce and cheese combo.

It's not a picture, it's a video of them finishing the omelette and Buck immediately tries to download it and keep it forever. Christopher looks so adorably proud of himself for flipping the omelette, smiling that gap-toothed grin up at him. Maybe Buck can teach him how to make pancakes next, or French Toast.

"Anytime, man. You ready to admit your oven is done for?"

The sigh that comes from Eddie is huge. "Yeah, but it's gonna cost a lot to replace. I wanted to live in denial for a while longer." He closes his eyes in pure bliss and chews. "The free breakfast is helping."

They chat with Christopher about his upcoming science project while they eat, debating on volcanoes or an algae experiment. Eddie does not want the algae in his house and steers Christopher towards the classic baking soda volcano with Buck campaigning for a more... fun approach.

"I don't think I want to know what that means," Eddie says, eyeing him.

Christopher grins. "I want to do Buck's volcano!"

"No algae?" Eddie considers it. "Fine, fine. But you and Buck are in charge of cleaning up after everything. The house is already enough of a mess."

He doesn't remember the bank notification until they're gathering the dishes, Eddie starting to hustle Christopher into his school uniform now that the hot sauce has been consumed and washed away.

Buck lets the water run and logs into his bank. Has the money been deposited finally? They said it could take a month and it's not been that long, so maybe it's not a super huge amount of money after all. Though if it really is six figures, he really can set up a nice account for his niece for whatever. It doesn't have to be for college because he knows that's not for everyone, but she'll have money for whatever she wants.

And if it's not that much money, well, the brakes on his jeep are going out again and it's the third time in three years. The last time he'd had it serviced, he'd mentioned the odd whining noise the car had been making and long story short the mechanic told him it was so expensive a problem to fix he might want to do a trade in instead of repairing it. So he could put a little aside for his niece and maybe get his car replaced.

"Ready, mijo?" Eddie comes around the island and surprises Buck by pulling him into a tight hug with Christopher on his hip, his hand resting on the small of Buck's back, his chin digging into Buck's shoulder. "Thank you. Lunch is on me."

Christopher throws his arms around Buck's neck. "Bye, Buck!"

Buck blows a raspberry onto Christopher's cheek and earns a peal of laughter. He can feel Eddie's lips curve into a smile against his neck when he turns his head, has to bite his own lip to stop the shiver, has to work to uncurl his arm from around Eddie's hips and let him step away.

"Have a good day, Superman!"

The silence that descends when they leave is so loud.

Buck blows out a breath and resists the itch under his skin demanding he turn the music up loud and let it rattle the walls (seriously, 3B, it's 7:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, what are you even _doing_ ) and finally pulls up his recent account activity to read the notification that's been glaring at him from the top of his screen.

His phone slides out of his grip and lands upright on the countertop.

_**New deposit into account ...8432. Amount: 5.1 million** _

Uh... what?

Okay, so obviously _that's_ a mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

It's not a mistake.

Buck's a millionaire.

This is a thing that's actually happening to him right now.

The first thing he'd done- after rescuing his phone from where it tried to slide into the sink while the water was running- was call his bank to double check that the amount was accurate. Then he hangs up and waits two hours until they opened and calls them again so someone would actually be there to answer.

He got to talk to the bank manager, then he thinks the president of the bank, and then he gets assigned a financial advisor that he has a meeting with in a few hours, which sounds like a thing he might legitimately need now.

Because he's apparently a millionaire.

He's still not really clear on how _exactly_ that happened.

Then, since it's not that early on the East Coast, he calls Phillip, which is a change. Usually Phillip calls him, or emails every few months. Buck doesn't realize he's worried Phillip won't answer until he does.

"Buck. Everything okay?"

"Uh..."

"What's wrong, is it Maddie? The baby?"

"No," Buck quickly assures. "It's just. The um, the funds- the trust fund hit my account and. It. Wow. _Wow_. Dad, I think there's been a mistake. It's way too much money."

Phillip lets out a breath like he's blowing his worries away. "Oh. Well, my father was really good with money. He ran the bank in Hershey for a while. How much is it?"

Buck lets out a hysterical sounding laugh, not sure he can even say it out loud. "It's five _million_ dollars."

"Well, Jesus fucking Christ," Phillip yelps.

He's never heard his father swear before. It makes him laugh a little harder, even as he tries to run through the explanation the bank people had given him, the way the financial advisor had broken everything down to explain how this is even possible but none of it really makes sense to Buck right now.

"Apparently... you said you did annual deposits into the accounts every year?"

Phillip sounds a little breathless. "Yes. Yes, out of our taxes. Once Maddie cashed her account out, I just had the bank double the deposit into your account and never stopped it. And then... thirty years of interest..."

"Yeah, they said that the account your father set up was really good and that the interest doubled every five years or something. So by the time I closed the account, it was up to like twelve percent or fourteen or something. Which doesn't sound like a lot-"

"It is," Phillip laughs. "Holy hell. Wow. Well, kiddo. Your whole life just changed, huh?"

And really, it has.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with five million dollars?" he asks, slumping against the wall and sliding to the floor. He'd kind of been hoping this is some kind of strange dream, but so far no one's pinched him awake yet.

"I'd say do whatever you want. You can do anything now. Enjoy it a little- you deserve it." Phillip sounds like he's smiling when they hang up. Buck stays on the floor for a few more minutes, staring blankly out his balcony.

He's a fucking millionaire.

This- this _is_ actually happening.

The bank has confirmed it for him twice. The bank in Hershey also confirmed it. His father confirmed it. And when he checks his bank account balance for what feels like the eighty-seventh time in the past hour, the numbers are still sitting right there.

Five point one million dollars.

That's more than the lawsuit payment would have been.

Buck sets his phone down very carefully on the floor. Folds his hands together. Places them over the back of his head. Tucks his head between his knees and breathes to calm the roar of anxiety suddenly rushing through him.

Is this a good thing?

It's a lot of money. It's more money than Buck has ever had in his life. It's more than he'd ever make as a firefighter, not that that ever mattered to him when he'd joined. It doesn't even feel real- like it's a made up amount of money for him to have. He feels like a small kid making up numbers _I'm gonna be a bajillionaire when I grow up_ and all the adults smile and laugh because they know the truth.

Except now he is an adult, and he has five million dollars in his account.

Should he say thanks to the long dead grandfather? His father? He's grateful, but should he _say_ thank you?

Buck is very aware that his father didn't have to do this. When Daniel died, Phillip could have simply closed the account and taken the money. Maybe given it to Maddie, or donated it, hell, put it in his own bank account or used it to move them further away than Hershey. But instead he put the account in Buck's name, making sure it was there for him later.

Was it guilt that made him do that? Did he know, even back then, that he wouldn't be capable of loving Buck?

Does it really matter? Should Buck even care? (He doesn't, not really, and he doesn't even feel guilty that he doesn't care and that feels significant.)

He should start his day officially now. He really needs to get to the grocery store after the Diaz men cleaned him out, and he's even got to go to the post office, then apparently to the bank to talk with a fancy advisor person that's been assigned to him.

A meeting at the bank is such an adult thing to do. He should definitely prepare for that.

But first he runs six miles, just to make sure the world still makes a little bit of sense. And yup, his lungs still burn. So at least that's still normal.

* * *

Eddie stares at Buck like he's insane.

"No."

"Yes."

Crossing his arms, Eddie digs his feet into the pavement. He narrows his eyes at Buck and scowls. "I'm not making you buy me an oven."

"You're not _making_ me, I'm _offering_ -"

"It's too expensive, Buck! No way!"

Buck hasn't actually told Eddie about the money. He hasn't told anyone about the money except Maddie. Yet.

How do you just say _hey funny story but I'm a millionaire now_? He's trying to figure it out, and he knows Dr. Copeland is right that he doesn't have to tell anyone if he doesn't want to. But it feels like a weird thing to keep from them all, and he does want to tell them. Part of the whole 'not hiding my true feelings anymore' spiel he's trying to adhere to.

It also feels a little tactless to mention coming into so much money when everyone is having troubles of their own, most of them money related.

 _But_ , he has the money now (he has all the money. Like, it's so much money) so he's determined to help who he can how he can. Obviously, he'd dumped a huge chunk of money into a savings account for Maddie's daughter immediately, taking down the account numbers with care and sending them to his sister before work.

He checks his phone later to find four teary voicemails of thanks and one abruptly demanding that he call her to explain why her unnamed child suddenly has a quarter of a million dollars because that feels like too much money, Buck, before she's crying and thanking him all over again.

It takes him fifteen minutes to explain that it's fine, and then ten extra minutes for her shock to wear off.

" _Million_?" she asks, again.

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

" _Yeah_."

Maddie laughs then, throwing her head back, her whole body shaking with glee. "Oh, wow. I'm so happy for you!" she hoots.

Which is not the reaction he's expecting, and tells her as much. Maddie shrugs, just smiling and bouncing with happiness. "What other reaction would I have?" she wants to know, her smile never once wavering.

"I dunno, jealousy maybe?" Buck scratches behind his ear, glancing around the parking lot. Everyone else is still inside, mowing through Bobby's leftover spaghetti and meatballs and cracking jokes with their feet up in the last few minutes before the shift ends. "I mean, it's way more than yours was."

Maddie snorts. "Uh, I'm the dumbass who cleaned my account out at eighteen and then spent it on my ex. Imagine if I'd held onto though, we could both be rich. I mean, I'm a little jealous, sure, but I'm mostly just happy for you."

It hits him suddenly, then, when she says it. "Maddie, I'm rich," he laughs.

"I know! Man, you could do anything." She sways excitedly on the couch, her phone jumping with her. "What are you going to do, fancy vacation? New car? Go to Vegas and be a high roller for the weekend?"

"I actually do need a new car, but first thing's first. I'm gonna see a man about an oven."

He manhandles Eddie into his car after their shift and tells him he has no choice in the matter.

"I'm getting you a new oven. No arguing while I'm driving."

Eddie reels back in the seat, his head colliding with the window softly and promptly begins arguing with him. "No you're not. What the hell, Buck?"

They argue about it the entire way there, and now they're standing in the parking lot of Home Depot, still arguing about it.

"Absolutely not," Eddie says again.

"Absolutely yes! Come on, we'll call it a birthday gift."

"An oven. For a birthday gift."

"Why not? And don't say it's expensive again. I can afford it."

Eddie gives him an odd look. He asses Buck, arms still folded across his chest. "Did you win the lottery or something?"

"No," Buck laughs. "But I'm not going to break the bank or anything. It's not even going to dent my account, I swear. I can afford to do it."

Eddie considers him carefully, but Buck can tell he's going to argue again so he pulls out his ace in the hole.

"I know you've been wanting to take Christopher to that specialist in The Hills. You said the insurance wasn't covering it and it's insanely expensive. So let me get you an oven and you can take Christopher to the doctor so you can stop worrying about which one you need to do more because both will be taken care of."

Eddie rocks back on his heels, mouth open. His arms drop to dangle at his sides. "I thought you said your car needed servicing again," he tries weakly, and Buck knows he has him.

"I'm trading it in," Buck decides on the spot. He gets a hand around Eddie's arm and starts pulling him towards the doors. "Come on, it can't hurt to look at least."

Amused, Eddie allows himself to be pulled inside. "Trading in your car, determined to buy me an oven- you sure you didn't win the lottery?"

"I'm positive I didn't win the lottery."

"And you're determined to buy me an oven for some goddamn reason-"

"You need one, that's all-"

"Buck." Eddie stops him with a tug on his hand. They pause in the middle of the cleaning appliances, between the washers and dryers. "Seriously, this is too much. I can't let you do this."

He looks so earnest, brown eyes warm and directly on Buck's. There's a look of stubbornness in Eddie's eyes that Buck knows very well, one that means Eddie has decided on the answer and that the answer is final, no matter what it takes to get the other person to accept the no.

Buck grins, knowing full well that Eddie is going to lose the argument and swings around to drape his arm across Eddie's shoulders to propel him forward. He leans down, his lips just touching Eddie's ear.

"I'm getting you an oven. Deal with it, Diaz."

Eddie spins on his heel fast enough to make his shoes squeak. Buck's chest bumps into his and Eddie is right up in his space, face tilted up into Buck's.

This is a bad time for his heart to start going triple-time.

"If I let you buy me an oven, will you tell me why you've been up at three am lately?"

Surprised, Buck pulls back a little, putting breathing room between their faces. Eddie follows him, a hand lightly grazing his side when he steps forward. "How did you- Chimney."

"He said he can hear you and Maddie talking when he gets up to check on her." Eddie's gaze searches his. "And you've looked worn down the past week."

Buck rolls his eyes and drags Eddie towards kitchen appliances. Figures that Chimney could hear them chatting. Maddie says he's a pretty light sleeper, which she's looking forward to when the baby comes, and they can get really loud when they're trying to keep quiet. They used to wake their parents at ungodly hours on the weekends from laughing too loudly.

"She's got pregnancy insomnia, I've got therapy insomnia. We have insomnia together, that's all." He runs a hand over his jaw thoughtfully, suddenly remembering that he hadn't shaved this morning. "Do I look that bad?"

"Tired, not bad. Enough to make me worry." Eddie looks away when Buck glances back at him. "Therapy insomnia?"

Therapy's rough, when you really get into it. Buck's had a few extra sessions with Dr. Copeland in the week since the money hit his account, practically exploding with the news as soon as she flashed on screen.

He feels a little guilty, taking money that was originally meant for someone else, set up by someone he never even knew. He can't deny he feels greedy as well. He _wants_ to keep the money and do things with it. He has plans now, and fancy financial advisors on his side getting things in motion. But this money was supposed to be Daniel's.

"It feels a little like blood money? Or a way for my father to apologize. I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Do you think your father is using the money to make amends?"

Buck had shrugged. "Maybe a little. He says he forgot about it, but who forgets about a trust fund for their kid? I don't think he's using at as a weapon or anything like that. He told me about it as soon as he remembered and told me to enjoy it when I told him how much it was. Might be his way of making up for stopping therapy."

"Does that bother you, that he stopped coming to sessions?"

He thought about it hard before answering. "Not really. I think... I think I'm done waiting on them to be my parents. This money, if he did really forget about it... he forgot about it because it was mine. I don't mean anything to them and I never have, and I'm done trying to get their attention because all that does is make me sad, angry, and lonely. I'm tired of feeling that way and I want to focus on the people in my life who actually make me happy. That's how I feel about it."

"That's a very valid way to feel, Evan. If you want more distance between you and your parents-"

"I do."

"-then I can help you take steps in that direction."

Dr. Copeland had encouraged him to spend a little of the money, reminding him that the first thing he'd done, before anything, is set money aside for his niece. It's a good thing that he should be proud of, she'd said. And maybe after he spends a little money and he sees that the world does not end with some impulse shopping, he can spend a little more without feeling like he's doing something wrong.

Because he's not doing anything wrong and he's trying to remember that. It's his money to spend how he wants.

"My parents aren't going to come to therapy anymore," Buck tells Eddie, finally dropping his hand. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it this entire time. "My mom's not doing well health wise. She's okay, but she's had to make some life adjustments. Therapy wound up being too much for her."

Eddie frowns, grabbing his hand again and squeezing. "That's rough, man. Is it okay to say sorry?"

Buck bites his lip. "Kinda. Like, I know she can't help the panic attacks, but it feels like she barely tried at all at the same time. And my dad- he just doesn't want to go, so he's not going to. I sort of hate him for it, and then he turns up with money for me like it's nothing. It _was_ nothing for him. I don't know. It's dumb." And not a conversation he wants to have with Eddie in the middle of Home Depot.

He probably could have ordered some kind of fancy custom made oven for Eddie and just had it delivered, but Eddie had hit the roof at the mention of Buck simply replacing Eddie's old one, so he knew better than to push his luck there. He's barely managing to get Eddie to look at the appliances to confirm which one he has and that he doesn't want that particular model again.

"It's not dumb." Eddie closes his eyes and pushes out a gust of air. "It's not dumb to feel how you feel."

Well, there's one particular feeling that Buck knows is dumb. His full blown crush on Eddie that has grown into so much more seems pretty dumb. It's pretty dumb to fall for your best friend no matter how you spin it. The potential for ruining the relationship is staggering, and that's never something he's even going to consider doing.

Telling people how he's actually feeling about things is all well and good, but he's not about to go and tell Eddie that he's in love with him. He's not ready for that fallout right now.

"My therapist said the same thing, but we're not here to talk about that. We're here to get you an oven."

Eddie doesn't raise to the bait, nor does he release Buck's hand. He considers Buck for a long minute, eyes searching his face before he nods. "Okay, fine. Let's look at ovens."

Buck crows in triumph and drags Eddie towards the upper level range that Bobby's been talking about and is immediately yanked away when Eddie catches sight of the price tag.

"Absolutely not. I don't care how much money your dad gave you; there's no way in hell I'm letting you spend that much."

Eddie keeps a grip on Buck's hand the entire time they browse, refusing to let him get more than an arms width away to even look at anything he's deemed too expensive, which turns out to be nearly everything.

Buck bites his tongue and lets him.

And if he pretends to try and slip away a few times so Eddie tightens his grip and yanks him closer, well, that's his business.

* * *

Installing the oven is a breeze. And by a breeze, Buck means he pays for the professionals to come do it while he and Eddie watch and drink beer. They even haul the old oven away when they're done, leaving a clean and fully functional kitchen in their wake.

Eddie wraps him up in a hug the second they're alone, arms tight around Buck's chest, face buried in his shoulder. He clings to Buck, every inch of him pressed against Buck's front. Eddie's a wall of muscle and he fits against Buck so easily, head tucked under Buck's chin.

"Thank you," he says roughly.

Buck folds his arms around him, resting his head on Eddie's and closing his eyes. He squeezes back just as tightly, grinning when they sway slightly.

"I've got your back."

"That extends to oven buying?"

"There's not really a limit on it."

Eddie chuckles, glancing up. His nose grazes Buck's chin. "I'm going to pay you back-"

Buck releases him with a groan, stepping away before he clings too long. "God, don't start that again. It's a birthday gift. You can't pay back a birthday gift." Hm, should he mention the money now? Maybe if assures Eddie that not only does he not want to be paid back he doesn't need to be, he'll fully accept the gift and leave it.

"Pretty sure it's the most expensive birthday gift I've ever gotten." Eddie's smile is so exasperatedly fond it stops Buck's heart. "What the hell would I do without you?"

"Live off takeout forever?" Buck guesses, eyeing the pile of takeout bags crammed into the trash.

"Probably."

Okay. No more stalling. He said he's going to start being more open with people and that doesn't mean keeping secrets from them (though there are a few things better left buried), and he's not about to _not_ tell his best friend about the money.

"So, actually..." Buck waits until Eddie looks at him. "I didn't win the lottery, but I did come into some money recently. That's why I don't want you to pay me back. I literally don't need it."

Eddie raises a brow. "Oh? You properly a rich white boy now?" he teases.

Buck lets the silence stretch for a beat before he nods.

"Are you serious?" Eddie asks, both brows climbing higher when Buck remains silent. "Wait, seriously, Buck?"

Buck nods again, chewing nervously on his lip. "Yeah. Uh. It's... a _lot_ of money, Eddie." Eddie just stares, mouth dropping open, and Buck babbles on. "Apparently my grandfather set up a trust fund for us- for me and Maddie, well, Daniel and Maddie before I came along, then me- and my dad remembered and told me about it last month-"

"He forgot about a trust fund?" Baffled, Eddie tilts his head. "How?"

"Because it was mine, come on Eddie. Maddie got hers the day she turned eighteen." Buck shrugs awkwardly, suddenly feeling out of place. "You know they don't care about me."

Eddie doesn't deny it.

But he looks so unbelievably sad that Buck hurries to assure him. "It's okay-"

"It's _not_ ," Eddie insists sharply. "It's really, really not."

Buck shrugs. "It is what it is. And," he says, rolling over whatever Eddie is about to say, "I'm rich now due to their guilt. I have more money than they do. And I'm okay, more than okay, with them being distant. I just don't care anymore."

For a long minute, Eddie doesn't say anything. He just stares at Buck with open confusion and anger, lips parted slightly. Buck can practically see the gears grinding in his head as he works through everything.

"Okay. I guess... I _won't_ pay you back for the oven then," Eddie says finally, shaking himself slightly. "He really forgot about a bank account full of money? What a white people thing."

"God, I _know_. I feel such an overwhelming sense of guilt every time I look at my account right now. I've been donating to so many charities and stuff." More at ease, Buck squats to peer into the new oven. "Fancy. Except now you can't blame the oven for how the food turns out, so you're really going to have to step up your cooking game."

He can feel Eddie watching him. "So you bought me an oven," he says thoughtfully. "And you've been donating to charity."

"Put some money in an account for Maddie's baby, too," Buck says, standing. "Enough for a college fund, or a house, or whatever."

Something softens in Eddie's face. "Of course you did," he whispers. He swallows, glancing away. "You're not blowing it all on other people, though, right?"

"No," Buck smiles. "I've still got plenty, I promise. I've got an appointment at a dealership next week for a new car. I'm thinking about moving," he says suddenly, the idea popping into his head.

Eddie's entire body jerks. His gaze snaps back to Buck. "Where?" he demands.

"I don't know, but I think I'd like to have a house, not an apartment. Own something, you know?"

"You'd still live here, right?" Eddie grips Buck's arm. "In LA?"

The question throws him. Baffled, he blinks down at Eddie. "Of course. Where else would I go?"

Eddie looks relieved. Buck really wishes he was more relieved that Buck was sticking around and less relieved that he's not about to lose his best free babysitter and work partner and newly minted oven-buyer, but he'll take what he can get.

"Good," Eddie says firmly, eyes locked with Buck's. "I like having you around to much to lose you now."

Alright then, they're going for round two of his heart trying to hammer its way right out of his chest today. Got it. But seriously, can his heart calm down? Eddie doesn't want to train another partner, to have to work out a rhythm with a stranger again is all.

Well, no. He'd been fine with Bosko. Eddie would be perfectly fine if Buck ever does leave. It would barely be a blip on Eddie's radar, Buck thinks, and _man_ that thought really _sucks_. He's the one that's too attached, the one that can't seem to walk away from this situation his dumbass heart has once again gotten him into.

But Buck's never leaving. He needs Christopher and Eddie in his life more than oxygen.

"I don't think I can be away from you, Eddie," he says honestly, smiling like it's a joke. "I'm so codependent it's not funny." He gives Eddie's shoulder a bump with his own.

"Yeah, me too." Eddie slings his arm around Buck's waist in a sideways hug. Gives him a squeeze. "Well, thank you for the oven, rich guy. I'll make you dinner."

Is it too much if he puts his arm around Eddie too? Is that crossing a line from bro hug to something else? He does it anyway, his arm sliding around Eddie's shoulders, trying so hard to be casual about it. Eddie just grins up at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Buck swallows hard and looks away.

"You're not gonna ask how much?" he asks eventually.

Eddie shrugs. "Do you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, eventually. Just... not yet. Only Maddie and our father know right now, and I like no one knowing yet. I want to get some things settled before I start telling people."

"Then I won't ask." Eddie gives him a hip check before releasing him. "How do tacos sound?"

"Like I need to make the meat while you do the tortillas." But he grins, and reaches for the saucepan, already handing Eddie the tortilla press. "Christopher's going to be so mad when he finds out we made tortillas without him."

"I won't tell him if you won't. Besides, he'll be fine if you're here when he gets home. He loves having you here." Eddie smirks. "He's all excited about that science project he's working on. He said you guys are doing some kind of secret experiments on Saturday?" He eyes Buck suspiciously. "Try not to blow anything up."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Buck..."

"I could just buy you a new kitchen, you know. If we did blow it up. For the record."

" _Buck._ "


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author can write a little whump. As a treat.

So the thing about LA is, it's a great city. It's got some beautiful landscapes, some epic buildings, a ton of famous people, amazing food, things to do on literally every corner. Buck has always loved LA, ever since he first set foot in it.

But it is a city. And cities are full of people.

Sometimes, those people take a bunch of bathsalts and wander out into the middle of the freeway while swinging a machete over their head.

Apparently, such a sight causes quite a few car accidents and there's a ten car pileup that the 118 needs to handle. Except there's a guy swinging a machete around and two officers are already being treated for massive blood loss, another being rushed to the hospital in the hopes of saving his arm, yet another missing several fingers.

Somehow, machete guy is not apprehended by the time they get there, but it's not for lack of trying. It's just... the guy has a _machete_ , and he's between the first responders and the wreckage, and really what can they do but try and dart in and get to some of the victims while he's distracted, screaming incoherently and whipping the extremely sharp blade around.

" _Woah-_ "

Eddie drops to the ground to avoid the blade approaching his face, rolling away when the guy shrieks and swings the machete again. He rolls out of his turnout coat, leaving it behind when it catches the edge of the _machete_ that is _being swung around_ at this accident scene right now.

Holy shit, the dude is fucking _huge_. Buck barely comes up to his shoulders.

Buck beats on the back of the empty car beside him to get machete head's attention away from Eddie, except now he's focusing on Buck, and he's _really_ fast for someone who's high out of his mind. Buck barely has time to swing under and around the fist- thank Christ he'd swung with his fist and not the machete- and get behind him, putting some distance between them.

Behind the rig, the police creep forward again, trying to attract his attention so Hen and Chim can slip past with the next two victims. Buck needs to get back around that car and into the next one to asses the next person, but then the machete nearly cut Eddie, then he'd tried to _bite_ Bobby, which made them all immediately back away. Somehow they've freed six people so far, but it's been twenty minutes and this guy is getting more agitated as time goes on.

"Lay down your weapon," Athena barks at machete head, unafraid. She's got her gun out and pointed at the ground, finger off the trigger. She won't fire unless she knows she'll hit the suspect and no one else, but the tasers hadn't even fazed him and they're running out of time to deal with this. There are still people trapped in their cars that need medical attention, now.

The guy turns away from Athena. His gaze locks on Buck.

"Come _on_ ," Buck groans, heart pounding. Why is it always him?

Eddie lunges, yelling his name, but he's too far away when the guy charges, machete raised. Machete head lets out a bloodcurdling scream and barrels straight for Buck, eyes wide, pupils barely pinpricks.

Muscle memory kicks in at odd times.

He feels oddly calm when he plants his foot and holds rather than dodging.

During Hell Week, he'd thrown guys roughly this size (okay, two guys) over his shoulder a few times. Grab the wrist and twist hard, hand over the joint, make sure you reach across. Force it to bend the way you want it to. He'll drop his weapon. Turn into his twist, get your shoulder near center mass. If you can't lift him, get around him, put yourself behind him and twist the arm up.

Buck plants a solid kick on the back of the knee, forcing machete head down. He's still screaming, snarling and trying to force Buck's grip on his wrist to break. Buck clamps down harder and _somehow_ gets his arm in a grip around his neck while avoiding the teeth bared to bite.

Twenty seconds of pressure and then machete head will be unconscious. Buck just has to hold on for twenty seconds.

The machete is still rattling on the asphalt when Buck drops the wrist to grip his own arm and tighten his hold around machete head's neck. It's a risk, he knows this guy is probably just going to try and get right back up- and he does, staggering to his feet with Buck on his back, arm still locked around his neck and squeezing tight.

Ten more seconds.

Buck holds on for dear life, feeling his feet leave the ground.

" _Buck-_ " Eddie screams, his voice drowning out Bobby's own yell.

Enraged, machete head pivots away from the machete, thankfully away from Eddie still scrambling over crushed cars to try and reach them. He staggers towards Hen, then slams himself sideways into the windshield of the classic car beside them when Buck throws his weight to the side to stop that before it even happens.

Buck feels the glass shatter completely against his side, can't help the cry of pain when he feels his skin slice open. White hot pain explodes from him, but he ignores it. Fingers claw at Buck's arm, then they're upright again. Somehow, he's still holding on. He still has his arm tight around machete head's neck.

Buck forces his knee into the middle of the huge back he's dangling from and pushes with everything he has. If he can get enough pressure on that point, then- yeah, down they go, the ground rising up to meet them.

They hit the ground hard but finally the scream dies off.

Eddie drops beside Buck right as Bobby careens around the trunk with Athena and two other officers at his heel.

"He's down," he wheezes, releasing the hold and sitting back, slumping against the tire at his back.

Athena's already slapping cuffs on machete head, eyes wide and sharp. "I see that, Bruce Lee. What the hell were you thinking? How hurt are you, Buck?"

Eddie tears Buck's coat open, immediately prodding at Buck's side. He hisses and grabs for the medical bag. "Dios mío, okay, Buck-"

"Oh god," Buck groans, looking up at Eddie rather than down at where the pain is radiating from like he wants to. "Is it bad?"

"Nah," Eddie lies, flashing his teeth in a grin. "It's gonna leave a cool scar, is all."

"Oh. Neat. You _liar_."

"Come on, now. Would I lie to you? Hey, eyes open, Buck. Mírame, por favor."

Buck feels a little floaty. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth and tries to keep his eyes open and his body still when he starts shaking a little bit. His ribs hurt, but he doesn't think they're broken. He hadn't felt anything snap when he'd been thrown into the car, but he knows Bobby's gonna make him get x-rays just to double check.

They guy had a machete. And he'd flung Buck around like a ragdoll while Buck was literally hanging off his back. He'd crushed Buck against a windshield and Buck's pretty sure he's been impaled.

"Have I been impaled?"

Bobby shoots Eddie a glance. "Impaled is a strong word. I'd say lightly stabbed."

He thinks he can feel Eddie cutting his shirt open. Risks a glance down.

It really looks like he's got a six inch jagged piece of glass sticking out of his side.

"Shit," he breathes, eyes rolling away from the sight because he just doesn't want to see that right now.

Eddie presses gauze and tape against the wound. "Hey, stay awake, Buck. I've got you. Mantente despierto por mi. There you go. Tell me about Christopher's science project. What was all that foam on the kitchen table, huh?"

"Yeast," Buck says, licking his lips. He tries not to wince when Eddie ruthlessly douses the wound with saline. "And dish liquid. Peroxide. Fuck, I can't stop shaking, sorry."

"It's okay. You're okay," Eddie assures, working fast but calmly. "Estarás bien, lo prometo. I've got you."

A hand rubs his arm. When he glances over, he sees Bobby kneeling beside him still. "That was really brave, Buck," Bobby says.

"A little stupid," Buck admits.

"Maybe a little, but that's in our job description." Bobby winces when Buck whimpers, hand clamping down on Buck's bicep.

"You knew what you were doing." Eddie glances up at him and smiles. "I saw that stance you dropped into, that hold you got him in. Learn that in SEAL training?" He tapes around the glass piece more, stabilizing it as best he can. They're gonna have to remove it at the hospital. Don't want to risk any more bleeding, or to damage anything on the way out by removing the shard at the scene.

"Yeah. Hell Week actually wasn't all that hard." Buck breathes out again and resigns himself to a ride on a gurney. He's not about to risk standing up and walking to the ambulance when they're not sure exactly how deep the glass is embedded. "Is machete head down?"

"Finally, thanks to you. He shrugged off two separate tasers and three officers, and a tear gas grenade. Before you got here," Athena adds at Bobby's shocked look. "Salts are a hell of a drug. You okay, Buck? How we doing?"

Buck flashes a weak thumbs up. "Is everyone out of the wreckage?" he wants to know.

"You let us worry about that."

Eddie winces, then nods at Bobby. They brace him on either side. "Okay. Up you go."

He's pretty sure he blacks out for a second when he tries to stand because he's just suddenly laying down and halfway to the ambulance. He blinks up at Eddie slowly, flexing his hand where it's clenched around Eddie's. Beside him, Hen is starting a line in his other arm.

"Gonna give you a small push of pain meds, Buck," she says gently. "The ride to the hospital isn't going to be too fun with that glass spear in your side."

"Just breathe," Eddie advises, squeezing his hand when they load him in. He can't help the gasp when the wheels fold up and jolt him slightly. Hen murmurs apologies, rubbing his arm.

"I've never seen a windshield impale someone like this," Buck hears Chimney mutter before the doors close.

"Older model car," Buck says. He can feel the pain in his side starting to ease, but it makes his eyes want to drift closed. "The glass isn't designed to... spiderweb like newer windshields."

"Cap said not to use the word impaled," Eddie says into the front.

Chimney starts the bus. "What word are we using?"

"Lightly stabbed."

Buck lifts his head slightly, glances at his side. The glass shard is about as wide as his thumb is long, and sticking straight up from the middle of a mess of gauze and thick pieces of tape that are all turning more red as time goes on. His side is a mess of rapidly darkening red and purple stormclouds.

"Kinda feels like impaled is the right word," he mutters, dropping back against the gurney.

Eddie keeps his hand in Buck's the entire time, his fingers flexing around his until he has to let the hospital staff take him.

The ER doctor agrees with Bobby, and writes 'stabbed' on his medical chart after he removes the windshield shrapnel. There's no internal damage, not too much bleeding, and he gets eight stitches right under his ribs for his trouble. Moving around, bending in the slightest, and breathing are not to be done too much or too fast for the next week or two while the wound heals, which meant...

"Ha ha, you're off duty," Eddie goads, kneeling to help him get his boots back on. Buck manages a weak groan from his slumped position.

Rounds of antibiotics, a prescription for pain meds, some firm instructions that the doctor gave to Eddie after the medication kicked in, and then Buck is released into Eddie's hands. Actually, most of the 118 is hovering in the waiting room when Buck is wheeled out, plus Athena, who gets to him first.

"Now boy, I know you did not risk your life at my crime scene to go and get yourself impaled on me." Her hands hover over him, unsure if it's okay to touch.

"Stabbed," Buck corrects. Behind him, Eddie snorts.

"Eight stitches, no work for a week or two, some fun pain meds. I'm taking him home with me," he announces.

Athena sighs, shaking her head ruefully. "What are we going to do with you, Buck? You can't keep getting yourself hurt like this. You're gonna give me gray hairs before my other kids can." She runs a hand through Buck's hair, smiling, and taps her finger to his chin. "This better be the last time you're in here for a while. Brave fool."

Bobby gently pats Buck's hand. "You did good," he says. "Get some rest. We can handle things for a while. I'll come check on him before my shift tomorrow, Eddie."

Getting in and out of Eddie's truck isn't too fun, but the cautious and slow hug Christopher gives him when he gets inside the house is totally worth getting stabbed over. Impaled. Whatever they want to call it, it hurts like a bitch. Buck would never admit this, but he's actually kind of glad that he's off work for a while because breathing just kind of burns right now.

"You were on the news," Christopher tells him, keeping pace as Eddie carefully leads Buck down the hall. "You took out a bad guy."

"Who's Superman now," Eddie teases, opening his bedroom door before taking Buck's hands again and leading him inside. "Come on, you're not sleeping on the couch with those stitches in, so don't even try the argument."

Christopher goes around the bed and arranges the pillows in a reclining shape. Buck eases himself down and lets Eddie fuss because to be honest- totally honest here- getting jabbed through the side by glass and thrown into a car? Yeah, not on his list of fun things. He's seen the mess of purple his side is sporting and he's vaguely amazed that none of his ribs are broken or even cracked.

Eddie fussing over him isn't too bad, actually. Buck had been kind of worried he'd totally helicopter like the dad he his, but instead he gets Buck settled and props Christopher up beside him with his science book and disappears into the living room to join in on the shift juggling that's happening to make sure someone will be with him for the first few days.

"Were you scared?" Christopher asks Buck.

"A little," Buck admits. "But I was mostly scared he'd hurt someone else and I knew he needed to be stopped."

"So you stopped him." Christopher scoots closer and carefully arranges himself against Buck's good side. "Good job, Buck."

Buck smiles, draping an arm around him. "Thanks."

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah."

"Dad will take care of you. You won't have to worry about anything."

Eddie reappears with a pill bottle and a glass of water and hands both to Buck. "Take this." He comes back with some sandwiches and hands one plate to Christopher, one to Buck. "Eat these." Then he settles on the other side of Christopher with his own food and side-eyes Buck until he's eaten every bite.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Buck asks when they finish. The pain meds are really screwing with his head because he hadn't even thought of that until now. "I'm taking your bed."

Christopher rolls his eyes. "You can just share," he says, like it's obvious. "I sleep here sometimes too. Dad doesn't snore too loud."

"Yeah, but Buck does," Eddie laughs, catching Buck's eye. He smiles. "I think I can put up with it while you recover."

Okay, heart going fast again, except this time- ow, ow, his ribs. Ow.

Eddie sits up and leans over him, eyes sharp when Buck winces. "Time for bed, mijo," he says, picking Christopher up and depositing him on the floor. He shoots Buck a warning look before they leave the room, one that promises bad things if Buck so much as moves while Eddie's gone.

He doesn't, but mostly because he feels more like he got run over by a car rather than slammed into one. By the time Eddie comes back, the pain meds have fully kicked in and Buck is just sort of blissed out against the pillows.

"Such a show-off," Eddie says fondly, bending to get him out of his shirt and check on the bandages. He perches on the edge of the bed, one hip on the mattress, and leans over Buck's torso to check the less dramatic bruises on his other side. "Looks like you'll be hanging out here for a few days while you recover."

Buck just grins. "Aw, are you gonna take care of me?"

"Yes."

There's not an ounce of teasing when Eddie answers. It's just a flat statement of fact.

Buck feels his smile fall. "You don't have to do that, Eddie," he says softly, a crushing weight filling his lungs. "I don't mean to be such a burden."

Eddie traces the angriest bruise with a fingertip, right along the darkest purple cloudburst, his touch gentle and light. "You're not a burden, Buck." He sounds frustrated. "You've never been a burden and you're not now."

"But I-"

"Will you just fucking-" Eddie bites off the swear, moves his hand to cup Buck's chin and force eye contact. "Let me take care of you this time. Please."

Who is he to argue with that?

So Buck does. He lets Eddie help him into sweats and an overly large sleep shirt, lets himself be poked and prodded, lets Eddie gently rub the antibiotic cream over the open scrapes he'd collected. He even lets Eddie hover by the bathroom with the door cracked and allows himself to be led back to the bed and nudged into laying back down.

He does feel like he should argue about the sleeping arrangements, but Eddie just snaps the lights off and climbs in the other side and ignores everything Buck tries to say.

Eddie snores just as bad as Buck, by the way, don't let him lie. But still, Buck sleeps like a log until the nightmare hits.

Buck comes out of it groggy and confused. He tries to jerk upright, sure that there are hands reaching for him, ready to claw him open and drag him down to somewhere bad. He's not sure where they'd take him, he just knows that he doesn't want to go, but the radiating pain in his side stops him- and so does the firm hand on his chest.

"You're safe, you're safe." Eddie's propped up on his elbow, the other arm draped carefully across Buck, being sure to not touch any of his injuries when he rubs his hand across Buck's chest. "Look at me, Buck. Breathe with me."

Without his consent, Buck's hand snatches Eddie's up and squeezes it hard. He's able to mimic Eddie's breathing when Eddie laces their fingers together and squeezes back. Buck can't bring himself to look at Eddie, but he can feel the other man's gaze on him.

"There you go. That's it. Can you breathe for me again?"

Eventually, his heart rate calms down enough for him to breathe normally, the huge pressure in his lungs easing. Swallowing, Buck drags his eyes up to meet Eddie's. "Sorry. I should have figured."

Eddie shrugs. "Why do you think I didn't want you sleeping on the couch?" he scoots closer, dragging his pillow away from the edge of the bed and dropping it right next to Buck. "Other than the fact that you're injured, that is."

It takes a minute for Buck, still groggy and with the last bit of nightmare adrenaline fading from him, to understand what Eddie means.

"Wait, you thought I'd have a nightmare tonight so you made sure we were in the same bed?" Eddie nods, arranging himself to lay back down while still pressed against Buck's side. He hasn't let go of Buck's hand, his thumb rubbing a soothing pattern into Buck's skin. "Eddie-"

"I have nightmares, too, Buck. I'm not surprised if you were triggered a little after today."

Buck swallows his protests. He knows Eddie has nightmares- as private as Eddie is, he's let most everyone at the 118 know he has PTSD with a few trimmings. He's never gone into detail, but he'd let everyone know he's back in therapy to help him with some anger issues a few months ago and had gotten an official diagnosis.

Hell, Eddie had even let Buck know privately that as terrifying as Afghanistan had been (truly terrifying, he's told Buck a few stories), he's mostly having nightmares about the things that have happened in LA in the last few years, which hadn't surprised Buck in the least.

Some of those nightmares probably involve Buck, if he thinks about it. He doesn't want to think about it. He hadn't been able to ask, terrified of the answer he already knows is yes.

"You're safe," Eddie says, eyes slipping closed when Buck's do. He squeezes Buck's hand again and settles in. Buck can feel Eddie's forehead brush his shoulder, his thigh pressing against Buck's. "I've got you."

In the morning, he and Eddie both have horrible cramps in their hands that takes them ten minutes to massage out because neither of them let go once during the night.

Worth it.

* * *

The assumption that things are going to be much easier now that Buck has money has proven to be- so far, at least- kind of incorrect.

Honestly, he feels a little cheated. Five million dollars should have made his life easier, not made him realize he's done waiting for his parents and keep his phone and email blowing up 24/7. Also, he _was_ impaled on glass and slammed bodily into a car (but really that could have happened to him at any time, money or no money).

"Someone really wants to get a hold of you," Eddie says, exchanging a glance with Carla.

"The bank," Buck says, glaring at his phone. "They won't stop being overly helpful and it's getting on my nerves."

He should have known better than to put his phone on the coffee table because now he can't reach it. It's not that the phone is too far away, it's just that Buck has stitches right where his body bends, so sitting up and then leaning forward to get the phone to silence it isn't really worth it yet.

If the damn thing keeps ringing and beeping every ten minutes, he's going to say fuck it and turn the whole phone off.

Maddie will show up at Eddie's later, he's sure of it (probably with Chimney in tow), if he doesn't answer her when she texts. So for now, he tries to focus on the awful Lifetime movie playing on Eddie's TV while Carla and Eddie do paperwork in the kitchen and his phone lights up with _another_ email.

"Oh my god," Buck groans, shifting slightly. His stitches pull and he winces. "You get one trust fund and suddenly everyone's up your ass about how you should handle things."

Carla peers over the back of the couch at him. "Trust fund? Why Buck, are you fabulously wealthy now or something?"

"Or something," Buck sighs. "Carla, love, please turn my phone off for me. I can't reach it. I don't feel like talking about money right now."

She comes around the couch, deftly switching the phone off with a flick and that gentle smile of hers. "There you go. No more bank people bugging you while you heal up." She arranges herself beside Buck, tucking him up against her side. "How's that?"

Buck melts against her with a happy sigh. Carla always gives the best hugs.

"You're about ready for more pain medication," Eddie says. Buck groans into Carla's shoulder, trying to burrow into her. "Don't even. You could barely stand up this morning."

A had pats his thigh. "Take your meds, Buckaroo. You'll really be feeling it if you don't."

Under Carla's watchful gaze and Eddie's intense one, Buck dutifully swallows the pills. "I hope you both realize I'm going to nap for like three hours now."

"Good," they say together.

Buck pouts. "Next time I get impaled-" he starts, not entirely sure what he's about to say, because where else would he be but here?

"Next time," Eddie cuts in with a sharp look, "how about you _don't get impaled at all_."

Maddie breezes in without knocking, her belly somehow bigger than it was when Buck saw her two days ago and a bag of Buck's belongings in her hand. She takes in Buck, wedged between Carla and Eddie and clinging to Carla like a limpet, and the odd way he's leaning and trying not to pull on his stitches.

"Oh Buck," she sighs, eyes alight with sympathy. "The last time you looked this miserable, you placed chicken with a car on Kenny Janek's motorbike bike and lost."

"I was thirteen and the brakes on went out," Buck grumbles, scowling at his sister.

"You knew they were crappy and took the bike out anyways." Maddie shakes her head, grinning fondly at him. "You gave yourself a grade two concussion and had to lay in your dark bedroom in silence for two full days."

"I know, I thought I was going to die from boredom." He yawns, already feeling sleep starting to pull at him again.

Carla chuckles, arranging Buck's limbs so he's clinging to Eddie rather than to her. Buck goes willingly, eyes already drooping. Eddie sits back to accept the taller man against him, snagging a pillow and wedging it under Buck's head so he's not face-first against Eddie's jeans. In the end, Buck is sprawled out on the couch with his head in Eddie's lap, his legs filling the space Carla just vacated.

Maddie maneuvers herself onto the coffee table and reaches for him. "Can I see?" she asks, pointing to the exposed bit of skin where Buck's shirt has raised. When he nods, she pulls the shirt up more and takes in the purple mess on his side.

"Oh Buck," Carla sniffles. She pats her cheeks back into a smile before snatching up her purse. "I'll go get Christopher from school, and I'm coming back with dinner for y'all. Maddie, can I get you anything?"

"Thank you, but I can't stay," Maddie tells them, frowning. She tugs Buck's shirt back down, satisfied that nothing is too terribly wrong. "Chimney and I have a doctor's appointment to get to. I just wanted to check on Buck and grab a few things from his place, but I can see he's in good hands."

"Eddie's taking care of me," Buck yawns, body growing loose and heavy. He can feel Eddie carding a hand through his hair and it's not fair because it feels so good that Buck has to fight to not drop into sleep right here and now. The burning pain in his side eases the longer he lays here and he knows it's the pain medication kicking in, but having an excuse to lounge all over Eddie is definitely improving his mood.

Maddie presses a kiss to his forehead when she stands. Buck's too tired to open his eyes to see her or Carla off.

"Thank you," she whispers to Eddie. "For taking care of him."

The pause is heavy enough that Buck almost opens his eyes again before Eddie speaks, his voice raw and thick with emotion, the word barely a whisper that follows Buck down into sleep.

"Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rely on the internet for the spanish, so apologies if it's incorrect
> 
> Mírame, por favor= look at me, please
> 
> Mantente despierto por mi= stay awake for me
> 
> Estarás bien, lo prometo= you're going to be okay, I promise


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all wanted house hunting 😉

The panini's Bobby made them (he _made them_ panini's, he really must not be mad at Buck for duking it out with Machete Head two weeks ago) were a distant, fond memory and they were in the middle of devouring Athena's homemade cobbler when Karen knocks on the door.

Eddie waves her in with a smile for Nia, who's perched on her mother's hip. "Buck said you were coming by," he says when Karen steps inside, closing the door behind her.

She raises a brow, turning to Buck. "Did he tell you why? Because all he'd tell me is that he wanted me to come over while Hen is at work."

Buck grins and dives back into the cobbler, saying nothing.

He's been at Eddie's for almost two weeks now and he's honestly not too mad about it. Seeing Christopher every day is great, the best of mood boosters, and it really keeps his happiness at an all-time high even if his pain still randomly leaves him breathless every once in a while. He's even well enough to make breakfast for everyone, though Eddie watches him like a hawk the entire time.

The stitches are due to come out tomorrow and Buck honestly cannot wait. Once they're out, he'll be able to climb the steps in the firehouse without worrying about popping one. He'll be able to climb the steps in his loft too, which means he'll be able to go home, but he's not thinking about that yet. Eddie's bed kind of sucks, and his is bigger with a much better mattress, but waking up to Eddie beside him every morning? It's like nothing else.

Every morning, he's woken up to Eddie's hand firm in the middle of his chest, grounding him like nothing else ever has. They sleep plastered right next to each other, heads turned and tilted so they're almost touching.

He can't even describe how right it feels.

It scares him a little, how easy it is to be with Eddie.

Buck's always wanted kids. He never realized how much he did until he'd met and fallen in love with Christopher. Before Eddie came into his life, kids had been an abstract thought, a plan for _later_ in life but no specific date. Now though, Buck actively wants it.

Sleeping beside Eddie every night has shown him that it's Eddie and Christopher he wants, a full family unit of them specifically. He wants to be Eddie's partner, a co-parent to Christopher, wants it so bad it makes his chest ache.

But it's not going to happen. And like with his parents, he needs to accept it.

Because the reality is, as much as he would love to be, he's not Christopher's father, and Eddie probably isn't going to fall in love with him. He wants it. He'll probably always want it. Unlike his parents, he's going to stick by Eddie, who has- unlike his parents- always stuck by him.

He can still be in the Diaz lives and be there for them like he always has been, and that does make him happy. Being able to be there for them both is the more than Buck could have ever dreamed, brings him absolute joy. Wishing for more is his problem, and he's dealing with it as best he can (and pretty healthily if he does say so himself... and actually, so does Dr. Copeland, though she keeps trying to suggest Buck tell Eddie about his feelings).

He's got the money to really take care of everyone now, and after he'd stopped dodging the bank's phone calls most of those plans are falling into place. It's actually alarmingly easy to get things done now that he can just pay someone to make his ideas happen.

He's even been browsing Zillow and bookmarking some houses he's interested in with enough room for everyone in his life right now, and maybe, hopefully, whoever comes along in the future. He's got a realtor, and appointments for walk-throughs of some places lined up.

"I just want to do something nice for Hen," Buck explains to Karen as she sits across from him. "If she knew about it she'd say no, so I need your help to get it done."

Nia immediately squirms in Karen's grip, demanding to be put down. Happily accepting her unicorn and her stacking blocks, she toddles over to Buck and sits near his feet, arranging herself just so.

"Issa Buck!" she announces to her mother with glee. "I stay here, Mama. I like Buck."

Charmed, Buck accepts the offered unicorn and puts it on his knee. "Aw, thank you, Nia."

Groaning, Eddie puts a hand to his chest and exchanges a look of pure parental love with Karen, who pats her own heart.

"Okay, okay." Karen fans her face like she's fighting tears. "What's this thing you want to do for Hen? Tell me about it."

It suddenly hits Buck just how much of an adult conversation he's about to have. He's sitting down with his friend's wife to discuss finances and serious things that are going to affect their future. He takes a moment to dwell on how weird it is that it's barely nothing for him to offer this but it will alter a lot about Hen's life.

Money can be the root of a lot of problems, but he's got a lot of it now and he can make it a blessing instead. Time to really start spreading it around and take care of the people who've always taken care of him.

"Alright, well I'm assuming that Hen somehow knows that something is going on with me, which means you know something is going on," Buck starts, grinning at her.

Karen barks out a laugh and nods. "Oh, yeah. She said you've been talking to your dad a lot, which turned out to be like... twice, months ago, but she got all ruffled over it. But lately we've been talking about _that_." She jabs a finger at Buck's side. "I'm really glad you're okay, by the way. We were worried about you- Hen still is. She'll be by after her shift," she tells Eddie. "And Denny demands that Christopher stay the night again sometime soon."

Nia offers Eddie a block, who crouches and accepts it, stacking it on top of the precarious pile Nia is building. Nia claps her hands and pushes the whole thing over, shrieking with glee when it hits the floor.

"She's bringing Chimney," Eddie tells Buck as he helps Nia gather the blocks and start another tower. "And probably Maddie."

Well, if he's going to see everybody today, he might as well just start telling people now. He should have mentioned it earlier when Bobby and Athena were here, but once he tells more people _everyone_ is going to know pretty fast. Gossip spreads in the station faster than a high school after the football player and the cheerleader break up right before prom.

"I've been talking to my dad because he released my trust fund," Buck says, rather calmly. His heart is beating hard but not too fast, and while he's nervous, he's not scared. "Haven't really talked to him since, though. Don't really want to, and he's not all that interested in talking to me either."

Eddie and Karen are sporting matching scowls.

"He forgot about the trust fund, by the way," Eddie adds darkly.

Karen does a full body eye roll. "Of course. Because that's a thing people forget about."

"Thing is, that turned out to be a good thing. It's been gathering interest and had deposits made into it for thirty years." Buck lets that sink in for a minute. Nia snatches the unicorn off his knee and jabbers at it, then flings it up into the air with a laugh.

Karen's eyes are wide. "Oh. You came into some- a lot," she corrects, "of money."

Eddie glances up at him curiously. He still hasn't asked, so it's only fair that he's one of the first people beside his blood relatives that know. Besides, he's gonna need Eddie's for some of these plans too, and it'll go a lot easier if Eddie isn't worried about Buck overspending the entire time.

"Yeah. So, I was thinking: I want to put Hen through med school."

Karen sucks in a sharp, shocked breath. "Wh- Buck, what?" She shakes her head, just like Buck had expected, so he leans over, a hand on her knee before she can protest further.

"Listen, Hen needs to be a doctor. She's going to be a _great_ doctor. She was made for it, and you know it. I can't really keep up with her school work anymore so I'm a useless study partner, but I can help her out this way. Let me do this for her."

There's silence as Karen stares at him. Eddie doesn't even blink when Nia knocks over block tower number two, promptly gathering them back up to make another. Buck smiles, waiting while they gather themselves.

"Buck," Karen says slowly, like she's waiting for a punchline. "Did you inherit enough money to comfortably do this?"

Of course that's what she worries about. Touched, Buck laughs. "Yes, I did. I can get Hen through med school debt free. I'm not going to break the bank if that's what you're worried about."

Karen blinks a few times. "Am I allowed to ask how much you got?" she wants to know.

"Five million."

Eddie falls flat on his ass.

Only Karen slapping her hand over her own mouth muffles the swear that escapes her before Nia can hear it.

"So," Buck says casually, grinning at their stunned faces. "Can I put your wife through med school?"

Eventually- and it takes a few minutes- Karen stammers out a yes and then promptly throws herself (gently, at least) at Buck and bursts into tears. "You're so sweet," she wails, just like she did last time she'd hugged him and bawled. This time though, Buck is laughing and hugging her right back.

"Oh my god," Eddie breathes from the floor. "Holy crap, Buck."

"Told ya you didn't need to pay me back for oven."

Eddie just laughs, which eases any tension out of the room. Hopefully everyone reacts this way when they find out Buck's a millionaire now (he wishes he'd gotten a video of Eddie falling because honestly? Priceless).

"I guess not. Wow. My best friend's a millionaire."

Karen scoops Nia up when she gets a mischievous look and starts heading towards Eddie's fern. She's in a _what's this, eat it and find out_ stage that has led to the necessity of locks on certain rooms of the house, and Eddie doesn't have any baby proof stuff up right now.

"Buck, _thank you_." Karen wipes her eyes, bouncing her daughter on her knee. "Hen was born to heal people. She needs to be a doctor, and this is going to mean so much to her. But you're right, she'd never let you do it, so let's figure out how to make this happen before she finds out."

Eddie just stares at him after they leave.

"I can't believe you kept that to yourself," he says eventually, smirking. "That's a hell of a thing to keep quiet about for any length of time."

"I immediately ran six miles in a dead run," Buck admits. "I was so full of adrenaline that I just had to run it off before I could really process it."

"If I found out I suddenly had a couple million dollars, I think I'd lift my truck with my bare hands."

He's completely normal when he sits beside Buck, shaking his head in what looks like exasperation. "The things that happen to you," he mutters, fighting a smile.

"At least it's something good for once."

Eddie's hand ghosts across Buck's shoulders and down his back before Eddie withdraws the limb. "You deserve good things, Buck. But I'm dying to know what you've got planned for this money now. You've set up an account for your niece, you're gonna put Hen through medical school, you bought me an oven. What's next?"

As if on cue, Buck's phone dings. He fishes it out of his pocket and swipes over to the house hunting app, handing it to Eddie.

"Well, I really want to find a new place to live, one that doesn't have stairs. I'm injured way too much and I know better now. I don't want a place with stairs ever again and I can afford to be super picky about it now, so I'm going to be. Wanna go house hunting with me?"

* * *

So, actually, it turns out that if you go house hunting with your best friend that you're totally in love with, you start planning houses around a future with him. Without meaning to, they dismiss houses that Christopher wouldn't be able to get around in easily, or houses that they don't both completely love, staying up way too late on what Buck jokes is "House Tinder", swiping left and rejecting places for whatever reason.

The first house they see in person, right after he gets the stitches out and can finally function without Eddie helping him up and down but has yet to go back to his loft, Buck rejects solely due to the frown Eddie is wearing after they tour it. The yard is way too big and would require more maintenance than he is ever gonna have time to give it anyway, and even though he's been very specific about the stairs thing it's a split-level, which had not been mentioned on the listing.

House two is nice, but the entire back wall is made of glass, which feels way too exposed given how close the neighbors would be. Buck shakes his head after a brief look at the bedroom and tiny bathroom, and they take a nacho break at a local pub before the next showing.

"You put jalapenos on everything," Buck grumbles, swiping one of Eddie's fries.

Eddie just smirks and eats one whole.

House three is much better. It's incredible. Buck wants it immediately.

It's a sprawling ranch style with an absolutely amazing kitchen. Buck snaps a quick picture and sends it to Bobby for a second opinion but he's already sold. He's not sure why he'd ever need a six burner range and double ovens in both the wall and side-by-side under the range hood, but this kitchen has them. The island also has a griddle cook top, which Buck immediately wants in whatever house he decides on because he can just see Christopher learning how to cook pancakes on it.

And there's a _wine fridge_ built in next to the dishwasher.

Eddie's smiling when Buck catches up to him in the living room.

"This place is pretty great, Buck. Look at these wood floors, and the high ceilings are a bonus."

There's a fireplace in the living room, and a dining room that's not obnoxiously big. The den is a big plus and he's already planning on putting most of the kid and baby stuff in there for his niece, for Christopher and Denny and Harry when they come over. He's only fifteen minutes away from Maddie and Chim's new place, and the station is just down the road.

It's a bit of a drive from Eddie's, but honestly it's not much more of a hassle than it is getting there from his current place.

"Apparently the master suite is _really_ nice." Buck grabs Eddie's hand without thinking, drops it quickly. "Sorry. Come see, it's back here."

It's massive, is what it is. A king sized bed would easily fit in the space. He doesn't even own enough clothes to fill the enormous walk-in closet tucked into the corner. There's a patio on the other side of sliding glass doors that open right into the backyard, a decent sized patch of grass between the stone and the in-ground pool.

To say nothing of the en suite bathroom with it's standing shower (it has _six_ different showerheads), the Jacuzzi tub, and another freaking fireplace across from deep set double sinks.

There are four bedrooms total, and three and a half baths. It's got a front yard, a gated backyard with a pool, and Bobby is actually texting him over how great the kitchen is, which makes Buck grin. It doesn't feel overwhelmingly big, which had been a worry of his. He wants to have a big house because he wants to fill it with laughter and people, but if it's too much space it could make him feel too exposed, aware of himself when he's alone.

He could see himself living here.

He could see himself living here with the Diaz men.

It's really hard to push that picture out of his head. He can just see Christopher learning how to cook breakfast foods on the griddle, can picture Eddie doing laps in the pool. He knows which bedroom Christopher would most likely pick out, how he'd arrange his things. It's so easy to see it hurts.

"I was worried it was overly modern," Buck admits to Eddie, forcing is brain off and stepping into the backyard. He's going to need to throw a BBQ pool party, he can already tell. He can't wait. "But it's actually pretty great. More than great: I love it."

Eddie's had his hands in his pockets since Buck had accidentally grabbed his hand earlier, but he smiles at Buck now. "I can see you here. I'm just worried it's too much space for one person."

Buck scuffs his shoe against the stone, glancing back at the house. He'd want to paint it- the white is so boring, but a bold, strong blue would be cool, and he could get a funky door, maybe hire a professional decorator and finally fill a place with knickknacks and things.

"Well, I mean. One day I want a family of my own, you know?" He can't bring himself to look at Eddie when he says it. "Get married, have some kids."

"You're going to be a great father," Eddie says quietly, reaching out and taking Buck's hand now. "I can't wait for you to have kids, Buck. You were meant to be a dad."

Buck squeezes his hand gratefully. Eddie is one of the best fathers he's ever seen, and if he thinks that Buck can raise a kid right then maybe Buck has a decent shot at it after all.

"My dad kinda sucks."

"He does. You're not your father."

"I'm not," Buck agrees, and feels the truth of it. Eddie hasn't dropped his hand yet and Buck swings their hands a little. There's one part of his vision that he can probably make happen, at least. "I'm going to make an offer. I want to live here. Would it be overstepping if I set up that other bedroom with the en suite for Christopher?"

In answer, Eddie yanks Buck to him and wraps him in a bear hug. Never one to waste an opportunity to hug Eddie, Buck folds his arms around him and clings back.

"You're never overstepping with Christopher. You couldn't."

It fills some deep crack in his heart to know that Eddie trusts him so much with his son. That despite everything, Christopher remains in Buck's life.

"That means so much," he says wetly into Eddie's hair. "I love that kid more than anything." He feels Eddie chuckle under his hands. "I want to do something else for Christopher and you're not allowed to fight me on it."

"I figured." Amused, Eddie tilts his head back to look at him, never stepping out of Buck's arms. "You gonna take him to Disneyland or something?"

He hadn't planned on it, but now that the thought is in his head he's totally going to. They'll make Eddie come too, and force him to ride the teacups with them and he'll take them on the roller coaster that makes Buck's stomach swoop and they'll both puke and Christopher will laugh at them and it'll be great.

"I want to set up an account for him, like I did for Baby Peanut. He could use it for college if he wants to because, Eddie, your kid is so smart he's going to get like five PhD's, or reinvent the internet or something."

Something warm and absolutely impossible fills Eddie's eyes. "Buck..." He tips his forehead into Buck's. "Thank you. It means so much that you're always there for him. For us both. You don't have to-"

Buck cuts him off. "Don't start. I already put the money aside and everything."

He wouldn't be Eddie if he didn't try again. "Buck-"

Buck frames his face with both hands, amazed that they're still standing so close, still clinging to each other in the backyard of this huge house that might be his in a few months, where Christopher is going to have a room that's all his when he visits, and there will be laughter echoing up to those high ceilings.

He's got a large family now. He needs the space for all of them.

"I am always," he promises, voice low and firm, "going to be here for you and Christopher. No matter what. And if I ever see a chance to do more, I will."

"Eres increible, querido."

Buck's heart misses a beat. _You're incredible,_ _darling_.

It's really not cool for Eddie to just say stuff like that. It makes Buck want him more, somehow.

"Buck, you're _already_ a father- god, do you even know how amazing you are?" Now Eddie gets a hand around him to cup the back of Buck's neck and he's so close Buck can feel his breath against his lips. "You became a millionaire and the first thing you did was take care of your family."

Darling, already a father, your family.

Getting five million dollars had been impossible. And yet, he's got the money in his account, a new car parked at his loft, and money set aside for the people he cares about.

How much more impossible can Buck's life get? Does he dare even hope? Is this another feeling he's allowed to show, allowed to let out?

Will Eddie allow it?

He feels like Eddie is offering him something, everything, and all he has to do is reach out and accept it. All he has to say is that he wants this too, show his true feelings right now when it matters the most. So Buck gathers every bit of courage he's ever possessed and swallows around a very dry throat.

"I can't even begin to tell you how much I want us to be a family, Eddie. You and Christopher are everything to me and I want you both in my life forever, in whatever way you want me."

The world does not burn down when he says the words.

Eddie's smile has a life of its own, growing wide and spreading onto Buck's face. He _lights up_ and Buck's never seen him like this before, so obviously overjoyed and happy. That impossible look comes back into his warm brown eyes and Buck knows that look now.

He's seen that look reflected back at him in the mirror before, has felt it on his own face whenever he's around his best friend.

"I want you in _every_ way," Eddie says, and then he's kissing him, all sun warmed and real under Buck's hands.

Kissing Eddie is...

Wow.

Buck doesn't have the words.

So he acts, bringing his hands up to card through Eddie's hair. He takes a deliberate step forward so Eddie has to tilt his head back and the angle change is good, allowing Buck to tease at the seam of Eddie's lips with his tongue. Eddie opens for him, stealing into Buck's mouth with a groan, one hand skating under Buck's shirt and up his back.

Warm, calloused fingers dance across his skin, pausing to flex and dig in before exploring further. Eddie plasters himself against Buck, his free hand fisting in Buck's shirt to hold him in place. Not that Buck is about to go anywhere. He'll stay here forever if Eddie keeps kissing him.

"Don't stop," he begs, diving in to kiss him again, using his teeth to pull Eddie's lip into his mouth. Eddie pulls him impossibly closer and kisses him hard, mouth hot and firm against Buck's and just a little bit desperate.

Eventually, air becomes an issue, and they pull back the smallest bit. Buck whimpers a bit at the loss of contact.

"Shh, querido. I'm not going anywhere." Eddie kisses him softly now, hands tracing patterns on Buck's skin. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"You really just kissed me." Buck is beside himself with glee, voice shaking with awe and hope.

"Well I was getting impatient, waiting around for you to make the first move." Eddie smirks before kissing him again, teeth scraping across Buck's bottom lip.

That's quite possibly the best thing Buck's ever heard in his life.

Wait a second.

"How long have you been wanting me to make any kind of move at all?" Buck demands, head spinning with the implications.

Eddie shrugs, lacing their hands together. "Actively waiting? Almost a year. But I think I've been holding out for you for a while."

Buck sputters indignantly- Eddie's wanted him for a _year_ and never said anything and it's completely flipping his world upside down- as the realtor pokes her head out.

"So, what do we think?"

Inside, Buck arranges to make an offer on the house with the realtor that she's positive will be accepted. He'll probably be able to start moving in in just a few weeks. Apparently offering cash (which is just a thing he can do now, how bizarre) is an almost guaranteed way to get this buyer to accept the offer because they've already moved and just want the house sold.

Once they're back out front and the house is locked up tight, Buck's offer sent to the owner not five minutes ago, Eddie puts his fingers through Buck's belt loops and pulls him back against his chest.

Heart pounding, Buck backs Eddie into his truck, hands coming up to rest against his hips and places a firm kiss on his lips, a deliberately slow glide. Buck takes his time in exploring Eddie's mouth, chasing every taste with his tongue, swallowing the soft sighs coming from him. Eddie is warm and pliant against him, willing to be nudged and moved until they're both wrapped up in each other tightly.

They could have had a year together already, hundreds of days of Eddie in his arms, Eddie next to him in bed, Eddie and Christopher across from him at the table for every meal. If he'd said something weeks ago, months ago (years), they could have had this all along.

Eddie tries to pull him back in when Buck steps away.

"If I tell you I'm in love with you, that I'm in for the long haul with this that I want Christopher and everyone to know we're together, that I want a future with you in this house..." Buck's voice is shaking because he wants this so badly he can taste it. "That won't scare you off?"

"Buck. You idiot. I'm so fucking in love with you. How could you not know that?" Eddie smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "I know I suck at flirting, but I really thought me holding your hand and hugging you all the time would have been a big hint that I was just waiting on you."

Buck's smiling too wide to kiss him back properly and settles for rubbing their noses together. "I thought it was wishful thinking," he admits, releasing Eddie to climb into the truck. "Plus yeah, you suck at flirting. I never even knew you were flirting."

Eddie slants him a look, reaching over the console to take Buck's hand in his. "Must've done something right because you're mine now," he says smugly.

That pleases Buck much more than it should. He turns to watch the house vanish behind them and wonders if he can get away with painting the front door chili pepper red.

"Christopher's going to be beside himself," Eddie tells him, turning onto the main road. "He keeps asking me if you're staying forever."

"I would like nothing more," Buck tells him honestly. He's aware that he and Eddie have been doing things in a reverse order- it feels like they've been together for years, already exchanged 'I love you's but are only just now getting around to dating. "But I think we should actually date for a while first. Plus, I really like that house."

At the red light, Eddie leans over and kisses him long and slow.

"We'll start by going out tonight, get this figured out before you come back to work and we have to tell everyone else. I can tell you right now though," he says as they pull into traffic, "I'm just as in as you are. I want that future for us too- you, me, and Christopher. Always thought you'd move in with us, but I like that house too. I have no objections about moving in with you."

Which sounds absolutely perfect to him.

His side is still too sore for him to lean over and make out with Eddie when they park like he wants to, so he keeps his hands to himself until they're out of the car, waiting until they're at the front door before slipping his hand right onto that exposed strip of skin where Eddie's shirt rides up.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, just pulls him closer with an arm around him. "Tell me the truth: are you actually against stairs because you're clumsy, or because you know Christopher has issues with them?"

Caught, Buck merely grins and plants several quick kisses against Eddie's mouth. "Both," he admits. "I didn't expect _this_ ," he says, clutching Eddie tight, "but I still wanted him to be able to come around and be comfortable once I got settled in."

There's that eye crinkling smile on Eddie's face again, but this time he plants a long, simmering kiss on Buck. "You should have expected it. You're not _that_ oblivious, Buck." He pulls back, eyeing him. "Are you?"

"Apparently I am because I was so surprised. Pleasantly surprised, but still surprised."

Eddie just laughs. "Okay, maybe I do need to step up my flirting game then because I thought I was being so obvious."

"Not in the slightest bit."

" _Christopher_ called me out on it. My nine-year-old son knew I was trying to flirt with you before you did."

"That's not fair, Christopher is insanely smart and you know I'm dumb."

"You're a little slow sometimes but you are not dumb." He kisses away Buck's protest, leaves Buck breathless before he pulls Buck onto the couch. "Maddie outright asked me if we were dating the other day. Gave me a hell of a Big Sister speech when she realized that's where we were headed, then told me to hurry the hell up."

Of course she did, his wonderful and meddling Maddie. Buck can't stop his own grin as Eddie settles beside him, reaching to pull Buck's shirt up. He perks up, interested, but Eddie merely ducks his head to check the now green and yellow bruises dotting him, the new scar decorating his ribs.

Gentle fingers probe the wound, brown eyes locked on his face and searching for any hint of discomfort.

Buck doesn't wince until Eddie's barely an inch from where the glass had been imbedded. Eddie stops immediately but doesn't withdraw his hands, pausing to slide them up to Buck's chest. Buck grins and draws him in for a kiss, getting his hands under Eddie's shirt, stroking up to his chest and then back down. He sighs into the kiss, teasing at the seam of Eddie's lips with his tongue. Eddie presses in for a second, then pulls back.

"You're tempting, Buck," Eddie mutters lowly, inching away. "But you're hurt. Behave."

He wants to pout and try to convince Eddie that he's not _that_ hurt, but the truth is his new wound does ache still. And while he isn't napping as much now, he's still worn out after a doctor's visit and three house tours in one day. Plus, Christopher will be home from school soon, which will be the cherry on top of the unexpected sundae that's been his day and will also require energy.

Though truthfully, he's a little nervous about telling Christopher about... everything. What are they going to tell him?

Eddie kisses him and stands. "Boyfriend, partner, or significant other?" he asks, disappearing into the laundry room to grab the hamper.

"What?"

"When we tell people we're dating, do you want to use the word boyfriend, partner, or significant other? Christopher knows they all mean the same thing, so it's up to you."

Can Eddie read his mind or something? Please no, that would be so bad if he can.

Okay, honestly Buck is going to have to get the blushing brighter than the rig under control and learn to wipe this huge grin off his face before they even think about telling the crew, who are going to be all over this with jokes and teasing and they both know it.

"Boyfriend," Buck decides, sliding his arms around Eddie's waist from behind him and resting his forehead on Eddie's shoulder. "I like them all, but boyfriend is my favorite."

A hand under his chin has him looking up to receive the kiss. "I can do that. Mostly just gonna call you _mine_ though."

It's really not cool to have a major injury to your person right as you get a hot as sin boyfriend that just says romantic shit like that. If Buck hadn't been impaled and/or stabbed two weeks ago they would definitely be in bed right now. Can he convince Eddie to come away with him one weekend? Maybe Maddie's high roller in Vegas idea isn't such a bad one...

Eddie appears to be thinking along the same lines and takes both a deliberate step away and a deep breath, gathering the laundry as he goes.

"You know, I just realized: we can go somewhere _really_ nice for our first date," Buck says. "Like, super fancy if you want."

Eddie pauses, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Is that what you want? Fancy?" He seems unsure suddenly, like this was something that hadn't occurred to him.

He can't stop the laugh that bursts out of him. "God, no. It's just fun to think that we _could_ if we wanted to. Can we go to that barcade on Sound? I heard they have old school games and some really excellent burgers."

Eddie is relieved when he turns around, face clearing almost instantly of what Buck realizes was worry. "That was actually my first pick of spots. We're so romantic."

"Just two dudes going on dates and stuff." He stays a few steps away but uses his height advantage to lean across the space, planting a sloppy kiss on Eddie's lips. "I don't want fancy, bro. Just want you."

"Did you really just call your boyfriend bro?"

"You don't like bro, man?"

Eddie quirks a brow, face impassive. Buck steps closer, grinning when Eddie's arms come around him, hands linking behind his back. "Querido," his boyfriend says pointedly, voice heady and thick.

Ah, yes. Racing heartbeat, right on cue.

"I'll come up with something," Buck promises, and lets himself be pulled in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my hasty research and the totally accurate Google, querido has a couple different translations. I personally headcanon that Eddie is calling Buck 'darling' but that's just me


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sappy and I make no apologies. Thanks for sticking with me through this self-indulgent little fic, and I hope it was at least entertaining to read!

Buck is prepared and ready for his first full day back at the station. A 24 hour shift is in his immediate future and he's pulling into the station lot (in his brand new jeep with all kinds of bells and whistles including a remote start and a rearview camera) with a smile on his face, despite the light duty he's going to be shackled with for at least another week.

As much as he likes staying at Eddie's, he'd had to get back to his loft eventually. His offer on the house had been accepted and the closing deal is happening in a month. He can start moving in whenever he wants, but first he's getting contractors and decorators and turning Christopher loose in his room and letting him do whatever he wants with it.

Eddie had climbed into his lap and kissed the daylights out of him when Buck asked if he could take Christopher with him and Chim to the hardware store later in the week, let him pick out what color to paint his walls.

Buck is also prepared for the onslaught of questions that are about to be thrown at him and Eddie. There's going to be teasing, of course, but he's actually kind of looking forward to it. If the loud whoop of joy Chim had let out in the background of Buck and Maddie's video call was any indication, everyone is going to be pretty happy with the new development between them when they break the news to them all.

And he's not going to kid himself. Since it's his first day back from a gnarly injury, it's going to be a crazy shift. So he's mentally preparing for that as well when he heads through the bay doors.

What he's not prepared for is the thunderous footfalls of one Henrietta Wilson approaching with such blinding speed that he can't even brace before he's scooped up in a tight hug.

"Hen," he gasps, his duffel bag falling from his grasp when he's lifted six inches off the ground. "Breathing."

Her grip loosens slightly, but she keeps her head buried in Buck's shoulder.

It takes Buck a second to realize she's crying. Instantly worried, Buck wiggles himself around until his feet are back on the ground and he's turning to face Hen.

"Hen? Are you-"

"Evan Buckley you absolute angel. You sweet, sweet boy," Hen sobs, pressing a hand to her mouth.

The relief that swamps him is huge. "Oh. Oh, Karen told you-"

"-that you're paying my tuition until I finish my degree? Yes." Hen snatches her glasses off her face, shoving them into her breast pocket to wipe at her eyes. "Yes, she told me. Buck, I can't even begin to thank you- I can't believe-"

Buck gently pats her back and lets her breathe when she tackles him again.

Bobby appears with a handful of tissues. He hands them to Hen, who immediately buries her face in one, and shakes his head at Buck. He's got a huge smile on his lips.

"Very generous of you, Buck," he says, voice catching slightly. "You did an incredible thing."

Slightly embarrassed, Buck snatches his bag up. "I mean, not really. It's just money."

"Says the millionaire," Hen scoffs, getting her glasses back on. "Buck, thank you. Thank you so much." She grips Buck's hands in hers, squeezes hard. "I'm going to be a doctor because of you."

Buck shakes his head. "Hen, you're going to be a doctor because of _you_ ," he corrects. "You got into med school, you've been killing it in med school while working nearly full-time and raising two kids. All I'm doing is footing the bill."

"Oh my god," Chimney groans behind him. "Eddie, how the hell are our Buckley's so perfect?"

Familiar arms wrap around him from behind. He can feel Eddie smiling against the back of his neck, a brief kiss on his skin before Eddie comes to stand beside him, one arm slung low across Buck's hips.

"You tell them about your new bathroom yet, Chim?" Eddie asks.

Bobby looks incredulous. "You got Chimney a new bathroom?" he asks at the same time Hen points at them and demands "How long has this been going on?"

"Since last week," Eddie tells Hen easily, resting his chin on Buck's shoulder.

"I hired Michael to design Chim a bathroom," Buck says to Bobby. "And the nursery, but Maddie's completely in charge there. He's handling everything- and I mean everything. He's getting the contractors and the permits and all that. I'm not doing anything-"

Chimney throws up his hands. "Oh my god, just shut up about not doing anything and let us thank you for everything you've been doing, would you?!"

"You're welcome," Buck says immediately. "All of you, and listen if you guys ever need anything-"

Hen simply waves that away. "I've always known I could go to you with anything, Buck. I'm probably going to stop buying you lunch now," she teases, moving to pinch his cheek. "But coffee's on me for life."

"No, I was gonna get the coffee," Chim protests. "I'm about to be a father, I'll be drinking so much coffee, so I buy Buck's coffee."

"Chim, I have two kids _and_ I'm in medical school. Do you know how much coffee I consume on a daily basis? You ain't got nothing on my caffeine intake."

"You're gonna be drinking a lot of coffee," Bobby tells him with a laugh. "Congratulations, by the way. You two look good together."

Another knot of anxiety slides away. Friend or no, Bobby is their captain and they'd both been worried there would be a talk about splitting them up, but he's smiling fondly at Buck and Eddie. There's no downturn to his mouth, no lowered brows. He's beaming at them, eyes wide and clear and happy.

"Thanks Cap," Eddie breaths, slumping against Buck a little. Buck presses a kiss to his temple, his own arm sliding around Eddie's shoulders.

"They're disgustingly adorable together, Cap. You're going to have to brace yourself. It's sickening. Every time Maddie is video chatting with Buck, Eddie is draped all over him."

"How long have _you_ known, Chim?" Hen demands. "How the hell did I not know this?"

"I have an inside track with Maddie. I found out two days ago but was sworn to secrecy."

Buck catches a look at the time. "Crap, I gotta change. Uh, Cap, wait here; I'll be right back."

He sprints to the locker room before Bobby can speak, already shedding his shirt before he hits the door. He changes in record time, nearly closing his finger in his locker in his haste. He gets all the way to the door before he doubles back, opens his locker to dig in his bag, and pulls out the envelope he'd stuffed in there this morning.

For the longest time, he'd struggled to find something to do for Bobby. He wouldn't want any material goods, which had scratched most of Buck's ideas right off the list (though the jury was still out on taking Bobby to a kitchenware store and letting him go nuts). He's still unsure of how the older man will react to everything Buck has planned, which has nerves skittering under his skin.

Everyone is still standing in a half circle when he gets back. His steps stutter for a second seeing them all still there, but they'd find out about Bobby's gift anyways. Who really cares if he has an audience for this? And if Bobby doesn't like it well, there's always the kitchenware store idea. He takes Eddie's hand and squeezes it hard before he steps up to the group.

"Uh, here," he says awkwardly, thrusting the envelope at Bobby.

He takes it, bemused. "Am I gonna like this?" he asks teasingly, but Buck swallows, an odd click in his throat.

"Man, I hope so. And I hope Athena will, too."

The mention of his wife has Bobby's brow quirking, but he smiles. "Whatever it is, Buck, thank you. I appreciate that you even thought of-" the words die when Bobby opens the envelope and the tickets spill out.

It's open ended plane tickets to Paris, complete with hotel and restaurant vouchers, and a small note from Chief Alonzo that Bobby is free to take the time off whenever he wants due to the enormous backlog of vacation hours he's collected. Bobby takes it in with wide eyes, mouth dropping open.

"I know you and Athena didn't really get a real honeymoon," Buck explains, the words rushing to get out. "And I thought Paris would be romantic, you know, and it has all that fancy food and wine. The hotel suite needs to be booked in advance, but it's paid for and you can stay for like two weeks. The plane tickets you can claim whenever as long as it's before next year-"

Bobby's embrace knocks him back two steps.

"Oof," Buck wheezes.

"Thank you. Athena is going to love this- I'm going to love this." He pulls back with a smile, eyes bright. "I've always wanted to eat in a French restaurant _in_ France. Thank you-"

"Okay, you guys have got to stop thanking me," Buck insists, glancing at each of them in turn. "All of this has been to thank _you_ , all of you, for everything you've done for me over the years. The way you've all just accepted me, and loved me, and always pushed me to be better."

Buck wouldn't be who he is today without the people before him. Every time he'd messed up, every screwy thing he'd done had been forgiven and he'd been allowed to learn and grow. He hadn't liked Buck 1.0 much, but he's starting to realize it's just because he didn't know him. Buck 1.0 was lonely. He was sad and missing having a connection with people and tumbled into bed with anyone just to feel something.

And now, Buck knows himself a little better. He's liking what he's finding out.

Buck doesn't want to fall into bed with just anyone anymore. He wants to love, and be loved in return. And he is.

"We're you're family," Hen says wetly, eyes filling again. "Of course we love you. You didn't have to do any of this-"

"I wanted to," he says simply. "This is how I can take care of you guys after you've all taken care of me. I always had Maddie, even when I thought I didn't, but I don't think I really understood what it meant to have a family until I came here." He turns to Eddie, grips his hand. "Until I met you and Christopher and fell in love with you both."

This time, he's tackled from all sides, a wall of bodies and arms and limbs completely surrounding him. He's got Eddie tucked against his left, Chim under his right arm and wedged against Hen, who's encircled Buck from the front. Bobby is crushed between Hen and Eddie, but he's got his arms thrown around Buck's neck.

"Love you, kid," Bobby sniffles into his hair.

"Love you, Buckaroo," Hen promises, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Love you, little brother." Chimney clutches him tight when he says it, voice hoarse.

"Querido, I love you so much," Eddie breathes into his ear.

Stunned, overwhelmed, Buck clutches them all tightly. Now he's got tears welling in his eyes, and now they're all holding each other up and crying, smiling despite the sobs escaping them all.

This. This is family. This is _his_ family.

"Buck," Chimney says when they untangle themselves. He wipes his eyes. "Listen, if my daughter turns out to be anything like you, I will be so proud."

"Your kid is gonna inherit that Buckley golden heart," Bobby predicts, cradling the envelope to his chest, blinking back his own tears. "Just watch."

* * *

Christopher eyes the deep pot on the stove suspiciously.

"Are you really going to put spinach in the soup?" he asks Buck with a frown pulling at his mouth.

"It's not bad," Buck promises him. "I think you'll like it."

Eddie frowns into the mixing bowl and narrows his eyes at his hands, like that will make them make better meatballs. "You just need to try a few bites, mijo. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it, but you did promise Buck you'd try it."

The weather had turned towards chilly according to the Texas born men, which amuses Buck even though it's basically Spring. To warm up his favorite two boys, Buck's making Italian Wedding Soup for them, but Christopher looks less and less thrilled the more Buck gets into the cooking. He does like spinach and usually eats it without issue, but he's never been a fan of cooked greens.

"I'll try it," Christopher says easily. "I'm just not sure I'll like it."

Buck eyes Eddie eyeing the mixing bowl. "It's okay if you don't like it. I think you're gonna have to help your dad with the meatballs, though. He looks like he's making hamburgers over there."

Christopher just sighs and rolls his eyes. "Abuela says he's not allowed to do meatballs anymore. I got it."

He sounds as exhausted and put-upon as a 9-year-old can be, confidentially making his way to his father and all but pushing Eddie out of the way to take over. Buck quickly turns back to the spinach, turning on the water and biting his lip to try and contain the laugh building in his chest.

"You can't just _flatten_ them, Dad," Christopher scolds.

"How did you do that?" Eddie demands, amazed when Christopher places a perfectly shaped meatball in the bowl next to him with next to nothing stuck to his fingers.

"Wet your hands," Buck and Christopher say at the same time.

"And you can kinda toss them around to form them."

"Like this," Christopher demonstrates, tossing the meatball a little before placing it next to the other perfect one. He scoops out more of the mixture with practiced ease and gets to work.

"Plus," Buck adds, digging in the cabinet for the pasta, "you were making them too big."

Eddie blinks at them for a second before casting his eyes skyward. "Dios, you two are something else," he mutters, rolling his eyes with a fond smile.

"We love you too," Buck tells him, and laughs when Eddie elbows him away from the sink so he can wash his hands.

He feels the slide of lips against his ear and shudders when Eddie presses a kiss to his temple, another at the hinge of his jaw before murmuring "you better" against his lips.

Eddie does much better at the chopping. While Christopher handles the meatballs, Eddie slices up the carrots and celery and Buck gets the oil and the broth ready. The six burner range stove is actually coming in handy rather than being too much. He's got the pan for the meatballs heating up, the pot ready for the broth, and there's still space for the pasta to cook and nothing is knocking anything else over.

Suffice to say, the house is fantastic. Buck's room is furnished enough that he's fully moved in, but he's still spending a lot of time at Eddie's while everything gets finished. Christopher's room still needs to be decorated, but the painters had finished it last week, and he's got a bed all set up. Tomorrow, he gets to take Christopher around town and let him pick out the rest of his furniture, and they're dragging Chimney- finally setting up his guestroom- with them.

Buck's bed is all set up too. He's hoping he can convince Eddie to stay the night and try out the new king sized mattress.

And Eddie reads his mind yet again. "Mijo, did you bring your overnight bag inside?" he asks, deftly dicing the onion.

"Yes."

Eddie winks at Buck. "Me too," he says. Then, quietly, "I put some of my stuff in the closet."

Buck has to wait for Eddie to put the knife down before he grabs him and kisses him fiercely, knocking them back against the counter.

"Grownups," Christopher sighs with an eye roll. He's gonna make one hell of a teenager. The thought of that is both pleasing and terrifying for Buck.

The soup is a big hit. Everyone even goes back for seconds.

"It's really good," Christopher tells Buck around a mouthful. "Why's it called wedding soup? Do people eat it at weddings if they're Italian?"

Buck chuckles because he'd wondered the same thing and had gotten sucked into a wikipedia binge when double checking the recipe. "Apparently they don't," he explains to Christopher. "It means 'married broth' or 'union of ingredients' because it uses three different types of broth to make it instead of just one: pork, beef, and chicken."

"I think they should serve it at weddings," Eddie declares, finishing off his second bowl. "Whatever wedding I go to next better have this at the reception."

"Maybe at ours," slips out of Buck's mouth before he can stop it and he freezes.

It's not like he hasn't been thinking about it. They've talked about their futures, how it involves marriage and maybe another kid, but it's barely been four months since five million dollars hit his bank account and the world is still a little off balance for Buck. A future with Eddie is _in_ the future, and it's probably way too soon to really start even joking about a wedding.

Hell, they've technically only been dating for three months and are still splitting time between houses while Buck's gets finished up.

Before the swell of anxiety can crest, Eddie's face splits into a grin. A hand on the back of Buck's neck pulls him down into a firm kiss, Eddie smiling into his mouth, eyes sparkling when he pulls back.

"Definitely," he murmurs.

Chimney looks absolutely exhausted, but he's beaming when he meets Buck and Christopher at the entrance of IKEA the next day.

Listen, Buck may be rich now, but he's apparently pretty basic in his tastes, and Christopher has his eye on a specific desk that's sold here, and has requested at least two bookshelves (Buck's pretty sure he's actually going to need three).

"There he is, the brand new father!" Buck hands over the quadruple shot monstrosity gallantly. "I know you said you'd get my coffee forever, but you have a two month old at home, so this round's on me."

Gratefully accepting the cup, Chimney takes a huge swig. "I'm too tired to argue with you. Your niece has really got a set of lungs. Hey, Christopher, how are you liking your new room?"

"It's awesome. I can't wait to live there forever with Buck and Dad!"

The air suddenly feels a little thin. Buck clenches his hand over his chest, trying to get his heart to stop seizing. Christopher uses his position on Buck's back to lever himself up to press a kiss to his cheek, which doesn't help the whole heart situation.

"Oh yeah?" Chimney gets a wicked gleam in his eye. "When's that gonna happen?"

"Chim-"

"Dad says whenever Buck asks us to move in." He gets a hand under Buck's chin and turns Buck to meet his gaze. "So ask us soon, okay?"

Buck really hopes it's normal for your eyes to well up with tears in the middle of a Swedish furniture store because he's not going to be able to stop it.

"You got it, Superman."

"I'm not awake enough to fend off these family feels, man," Chimney sniffs next to them. "Come help me pick out my new guest bed before we scare the other customers."

"You're gonna have to help me move these two lugs in," Buck informs him, hitching Christopher up into a more comfortable position on his back. "I didn't have that much stuff to haul from my loft, but they've got a whole house to move around."

"The hell I am. You've got money- hire someone else to do it for you."

"Moving can help build character, Chim. Besides, what else are brothers-in-law for?"

"I'm not your brother-in-law for another year at least and I don't think Eddie or Christopher are gonna wait that long to move in with you. Nor are the rest of us going to wait that long for that BBQ you've been promising to throw, so get to it."

He manages a light kick to Chimney's shin, darting away before the other man can retaliate, Christopher's laughter following them through the store.

* * *

He winds up throwing the BBQ six weeks later, after Eddie and Christopher are all moved in, and that's mostly because work's been so hectic lately no one's had the time. Bobby wound up having to juggle like a circus clown to finagle them all an afternoon off that didn't interfere with any other summer plans.

Eddie's arm is around his waist and Christopher is whooping with laughter, happily splashing Denny and Harry in the pool. May's spread out on the lounge chair, looking for all the world like she's not paying attention to anything, but Buck can see the super soaker resting at her side and the way she's fighting a smile as Michael tries to sneak up on her with his own water gun raised.

Bobby wound up taking over the grilling, but that's mostly because he'd promised everyone ribs. Buck's happy to let Bobby cook on the grill he hasn't even used yet if it means there are ribs in his future. Plus if he's not cooking he's free to spend his time clinging to Eddie as much as he wants, and it appears Eddie has no objections.

Beside them, Maddie rocks her daughter to sleep with practiced ease. She's got a dopey smile on her face that Buck can feel reflected on his own when she looks up.

"I'm gonna put her down in the crib," Maddie whispers.

"Baby monitor is all set up. It's the tablet by counter," Eddie tells her. His hand tangles in Buck's hair, fingers scratching at the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

Buck just gets his phone up in time to video May shooting her father square in the chest with her water gun. Harry attacks from the side, getting them both, and then all three Grants are shrieking and running, water guns up and spraying until they're empty. Athena's loud laughter rings out over it all, even as she deftly side-steps her daughter when they rush past.

Maddie barely glances up from the monitor, dodging soaking kids and architects alike with learned grace.

The video monitor shows his niece conked out next to an equally passed out Nia, and Hen perched in the rocker across the room with a textbook in one hand, a highlighter in the other. Karen's fussing with dessert in the kitchen, the non video monitor within reach, promising a rich chocolate cake that's going to be worth all the dishes Buck's going to have to do.

Chimney, fresh off a shift, is catching a brief cat nap in the guestroom before the food is served. He's threatened to commit homicide if no one wakes him up for Bobby's ribs.

"Not while I'm on duty," Athena had warned.

"Well, you're not," Chimney had reminded her before collapsing onto the bed.

Abuela and Pepa are whipping some seriously amazing smelling side dishes on his massive stovetop, something spicy and pungent with garlic filling the air and refusing to let anyone near them that's not Karen or Buck while it all simmers (Eddie had actually been forcefully removed and shoved into Buck's arms by Pepa when he'd tried to help).

"Almost time to get Chim up," Buck announces at Bobby's signal. He's not about to risk a hangry, new baby tired Chimney loose on the world, and definitely not now that the house is finally all set up and done.

Christopher drapes his towel over his shoulders and heads inside. "I got it," he tells everyone. "Uncle Chim! Uncle Chim, the ribs are ready!"

"Man, your kid is gonna be one loud teenager," Eddie tells him with a kiss to his cheek, causing Buck's dopey grin to grow even larger.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes with a text. Frowning in confusion, Buck digs it out. Who could possibly be texting him? Everyone's already here.

"Want a refill?" Eddie asks, taking his empty bottle as he stands.

"Yeah, thanks babe."

Carla's manning the blender, hooting with laughter and handing out frozen margaritas that are heavy on the tequila. She's made fast friends with Pepa and Abuela both, firmly securing an invite to the monthly Diaz dinner that's apparently going to happen at his and Eddie's place from now on. Which is news to him, but he's delighted at the thought. Their place has more room for everyone anyways, and once summer really hits he's gonna have a hard time fending off the Diaz cousins from taking over his pool. Might as well just invite them over.

The text is from Phillip, and it gives Buck pause. _Heard you moved. Careful not to blow all the money at once._

It's the most he's heard from Phillip since he'd called to confirm that the amount of money in his account wasn't somehow a trick. Almost a year, Buck realizes with a start. Nearly a year of no contact from his father or mother and he hadn't even realized. Hadn't noticed.

Hadn't cared.

It's also a little insulting that Phillip thinks that Buck is just going to blow all at once. What happened to _enjoy it, you deserve it_ , huh? First of all, Phillip has no right to say what Buck can do with the money at all. Second of all, the fuck? It was five million dollars, how the hell is he supposed to spend it all in the, what, ten months since he'd gotten it? And third-

Third...

Third of all, it doesn't matter what Phillip thinks. Because it's not just Buck that this house is for. He's got space for any and everyone to come over, to hang out and play, or to sleep off a shift or take over his kitchen and force feed them (though that's mostly Carla and Abuela). This house is for everyone, every single person that's here right now.

Maybe some more time should pass before he talks to his father again if one text message is enough to make his good mood dip for even a minute. He'll talk to Eddie and Dr. Copeland about it later. Maddie too, see what they all think. He knows Maddie sends their parents photos of their granddaughter, along with short emails with bullet point updates about their lives, but she doesn't actively reach out to them unless she really needs to, and she never shares any information about him that he doesn't want her to.

Buck meets Eddie halfway across the patio, taking the cool beer and stealing a kiss, locking his phone and shoving it back into his pocket without responding.

"Who was that, Chim threatening you about missing the ribs?"

"Nah, just relatives." Buck laces their fingers together and smiles. "Come on, let's get some food before Chimney and Christopher eat everything."

They cross their yard hand-in-hand and sit down to have dinner with their family.


End file.
